The Squandered privilege of having a father!
My father never let me forget that he hadn’t had the privilege that I had. Everyday, he lamented his constant lack of ability that hadn’t been honed in him for no one having had mercy to tutor him in such things as masculinity walking and talking. He often would break into a womanly cackle, just to show us how it was an effort for him to “Man-up”. No one will ever say that about you, was his impulse. You will man up before you woman up.
I recall, running to him when provoked by some fierce park enemy. You will never be a sissy with me, he would push us back into the fray. Do it! My greatest lament was to disappoint him in my baby patticake game. Put it AWAY! The overhead that hit the tape would haunt me. What a sissy! What a wimp! Not me.
I love the meditations of Clarence Day Jr. In life with Father and the cheaper by the dozen book who had aggressive fathers like I did. My father cracked his whip, because the whip was never cracked over his soul. He felt that his fears and foibles and inabilities were traced to his orphan status. His mother had to work full time and his father was gone. He was the only child with his sister, in his whole neighborhood who had no male role model in the home. He memorized and mimicked unrealistic models from the movies and wished for the opportunity to act out his masculinity on some unsuspecting children to their amazing fondness and emulation. He got his wish.
We adored him, faults and all. We emulated him, sometimes unable to change this about ourselves. His imprints are so severe that we are all his little shadows. How could that be? He was so flawed as are we for emulating him.
The only thing worse than not being able to change the man that you imitate is not having anything to imitate at all. Dont miss the privilege of your own father, in a day of unmasculinity.
