Got It From Daddy


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[ad#Digg]          We have been writing about Daddy this week. Daddy get’s bad press. A father can only fall into 3 categories: he either abandons the family (physically and/or emotionally), he plays the stereotypical cold rock that provides but doesn’t get involved or he is a pseudo-mom. It’s sad really. We tell women they can be who they want to be but men, those who do not feel threatened by women, must pick one of the roles above? That sucks. Some of us have good Dad memories. What are yours?

          Lee says: My Dad is a neat guy.  Sure, he is opinionated, inappropriate, has poor boundaries and has no filters but he is my Daddy. My Dad has shown poor judgment throughout his lifetime when it comes to things he has said, done and his understanding of loyalty and commitment but he is my Daddy. My Dad has objectified women, hurt my Mom and caused intense, wounding pain to our family but he is still my Daddy.

          You are probably thinking, ‘Jeesh, this bitch is in denial!’ You would be very wrong. I have gone through years of being angry with my father and have had my share of judgmental rants while dressing him down to no better than a character from an R&B song. I have jumped on any and every word he says and watched him like a hawk. I have tried to rescue my Mom, my siblings and my family to the point where I kept my cape in the car. The bottom line is, SO WHAT? Did that change him? Did his crappy behavior make him stop loving me or supporting me or being proud of me? No. Regardless of all the crap my Dad did, he was still a good Daddy.

          Did this revelation come during a grey day, wearing a turtleneck sweater, sitting on the window seat looking at the rain puddle on the ground while sipping an international coffee? Hardly. The clarity came with years of therapy, hypnotherapy, release therapy and some good old-fashioned forgiveness and understanding. My Father, for all his faults was a product of his parents. Just like I am. When I understood him, I began to understand myself. It’s kind of like math. You must understand how to add to multiply which helps with algebra which helps with calculus. I am calculus and understanding my Dad is like using algebra to manipulate the equation that is me.

          To understand my Dad I must look at the fact that my father, at the tender age of 21, was fighting communism. He was subversive and his opinions of Castro would not be contained. He was so controversial he was arrested many times in Cuba until he pushed people too much and he was scheduled to be executed. He was a wily mo’fo and was able to escape and thus used his contacts to escape the country.  My Dad (and Mom), at an age where most of us are still sucking of our parents teats, was fighting the government and leaving everything he knew for the possibility of freedom. And here I am fretting a move back West…

          I love my Daddy because he gave me an incredible inheritance of intelligence, stubbornness and guts. I also love him because he is a sappy bastard and seeing a man cry and feel, opened me to accepting the love of a sensitive man. Take a second and see what you got from your Dad. Ooh, I also thank him for good hair and wicked smile.

          Paul says: He did give you good hair albeit a little on the light, light, light blond side. (TeeHee. That’s going to get me punched.)

          It was interesting for me to marry into this family. My Dad is quiet and stoic in many ways so the dichotomy between the two was eye opening to me. I will admit that, after more than two decades of marriage, I try to live somewhere between these two models.

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