Weeks ago, I promised Toni I would take her Christmas shopping so that she could buy gifts for her parents without her parents being around. This is the first year she’s been really aware that they just might like to be surprised, and she’s smart enough to know that if she lacks enough money, Grandpa will make up the shortfall. That latter part is probably why she was very specific in asking me to take her and not Char. Char is a mom; moms make you consider the actual dollar amount in your wallet before letting you pick something out.
This was before I broke my foot; we took the kids skiing a couple of weeks ago and due to a poor choice in foot attire while trying out a snow bike, I managed to break a couple of bones in my foot. Minor breaks, but it still hurts a bit. I could have backed out, but I’m not an invalid and this wasn’t going to kill me, so Alex and I sucked it up and took her to the mall.
We hadn’t been inside for more than five minutes when I had a sudden and acute flashback to taking a three year old Alex Christmas shopping at the same mall. We’d barely gotten inside when he spied a very large red kettle and noted people putting money into it, and wanted to know why. He accepted that people sometimes need a little extra help buying food and clothing, and was fine with that, but just past the kettle was a collection point for Toys for Tots, manned by Marines in dress uniform. He was curious; why did those soldiers have all those toys?
The explanation that some people didn’t have enough money to buy presents for their kids made him sink to his knees, and he cried from deep down, so broken over what had occurred to him that it took several minutes before I was able to understand what had upset him. He got it: there were kids out there who didn’t have toys to play with, and if those soldiers were collecting toys, that meant that there were kids who were going to have a very bad Christmas, and worse—there was no Santa Claus.
He was three years old and even then too smart for his own good. Toni doesn’t share his rapid-fire ability to put mental puzzle pieces together, but I knew that kettle was going to be there, and just beyond that it, there was going to be a collection table for toys and Toni was going to want an explanation.
The red kettle was not a mystery to her; she’s seen then in front of grocery stores and is familiar with bell ringers. All she wanted was a dollar to put in it, and then grabbed Alex by the hand to pull him along. I hoped she would be oblivious to the men in uniform I could see just a hundred feet or so ahead, but it was like she zoned in on them, and wanted to know the same thing Alex had. What are they doing?
Before I could answer, Alex did. People bring toys to them, and they make sure those toys get to little kids who don’t get a lot for Christmas.
Oh, so those are some of Santa’s helpers?
If I had thought of that 13 years ago, one little boy might not have had the joy of believing in Santa ripped away from him. She was content with the belief that Santa makes good use of helpers, and just wanted to get down to shopping. Alex asked her if she wanted to go buy a couple of toys—his treat—and give them to the Marines, and she lit up. Of course she did.
Toni doesn’t have many more years of believing in Santa; she’s almost 9 years old and I suspect she has her doubts, but I didn’t have it in me to be there when she voiced a certainty to those doubts. I was grateful to my son for being quick enough to give her a better explanation than I'd had for him when he was three. He was able to turn it into something good; from then on, we’ve taken an annual shopping trip together—the last couple of years including Kevin—and have bought toys for donation. It was his idea and he saves a little money all year long for it. But I would still like to turn back the clock and give him the explanation he gave to Toni, and keep his belief intact for a few more years.
In another hour or so this house will begin to fill with family; Erin and Miko are bringing their kids, Craig is bringing Frankie, Brad is bringing some 18 year old scotch (this year, Craig is fine with it around), Nika and Peter, Dack and Theresa, TK and Becky and their kids—everyone in our daily lives that matters will be here; it will be loud and obnoxious, and a definite kind of wonderful.
And later on, Erin and Miko will take the kids home so that Santa can find them, because for now Toni still believes, and she can’t wait.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
So basically, I have chauffeurs
I thought every psychological thing from the accident two and a half years ago was behind me. But yesterday we were at a stoplight and the sound of squealing tires made me flinch so hard I nearly went from the passenger seat right into Ian's lap, and I started shaking so hard and breathing so hard that he pulled into the first parking lot he could to give me some time to calm down and catch my breath.
We went into a nearby fast food place because I was damn well going to cave into the want of a chocolate shake while I fought to calm down and as we sat there I told him I thought this was all over with and that I'd mostly forgotten about it, but the look on his face said something else.
"You only drive if you have to. Since Alex got his license you drive even less. Your motorcycle has only 400 miles on it and I've put a hundred on it just to keep the battery charged."
I hadn't noticed, but he's right. I don't know why he's never pushed me to get behind the wheel more often or take the bike out, but he's right. I always ask him to drive, and I've used Alex's excitement over being able to drive as an excuse when Ian isn't available. I wanted to know why he didn't push me a little harder.
"Because you do what you have to do when you need to do it, and you're not distracted by fear when you are driving. I think it's all right that you choose to not drive or ride, and when you're ready, you'll tell me to get my ass in the passenger seat because I'm driving you bat chit crazy with the way I steer with one hand."
But clearly, I'm not nearly as all right with it as I thought I was.
I thought he would press the point and make me drive, but he didn't. I did ask him if he thought I was nuts, and as we got back into the car he said he did.
For a moment, I was offended.
"It's 5 fucking degrees outside, and you wanted a shake. You have to admit, that's a little nuts."
I'll give him that one.
We went into a nearby fast food place because I was damn well going to cave into the want of a chocolate shake while I fought to calm down and as we sat there I told him I thought this was all over with and that I'd mostly forgotten about it, but the look on his face said something else.
"You only drive if you have to. Since Alex got his license you drive even less. Your motorcycle has only 400 miles on it and I've put a hundred on it just to keep the battery charged."
I hadn't noticed, but he's right. I don't know why he's never pushed me to get behind the wheel more often or take the bike out, but he's right. I always ask him to drive, and I've used Alex's excitement over being able to drive as an excuse when Ian isn't available. I wanted to know why he didn't push me a little harder.
"Because you do what you have to do when you need to do it, and you're not distracted by fear when you are driving. I think it's all right that you choose to not drive or ride, and when you're ready, you'll tell me to get my ass in the passenger seat because I'm driving you bat chit crazy with the way I steer with one hand."
But clearly, I'm not nearly as all right with it as I thought I was.
I thought he would press the point and make me drive, but he didn't. I did ask him if he thought I was nuts, and as we got back into the car he said he did.
For a moment, I was offended.
"It's 5 fucking degrees outside, and you wanted a shake. You have to admit, that's a little nuts."
I'll give him that one.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Title Goes Here
A little over a month ago Erin expressed an interest in knowing where her father is, what had happened to him, and why he left when she was so young. My sister has never been exactly forthcoming about the breakup of her marriage, and the details were never mine to inquire about. She may have confided in our parents, who only told me “It’s just sad,” and I never pressed. At the time the only things I needed to know were that my sister was suddenly on her own with two young kids, and that she needed our help and compassion more than she needed questions.
I think we all (my brother, my ex, and I) expected her ex to stay in contact with their kids, no matter what the reason he had for leaving. He didn’t, though, and Val made it clear to the kids that they should just simply not ask her anything.
I had my suspicions about his whereabouts, but kept them to myself, until late in October when Erin asked me to find him. She’s not ready to face him, but does want him to know she’s interested in him, and that someday, probably someday soon, she’d like to see him and perhaps (a very strong maybe) begin a relationship if that’s what he wants as well.
I approached my sister and got the answer I expected; she doesn’t know where he is and doesn’t care. I spoke to Erin’s brother, who also didn’t know, but was certain he could get at least some basic information out of Val, and after some pressure—he wants as much as Erin does to have at least the option to connect with their father, and if warranted, kick the crap out of him—she relented and gave Jeff the last address and phone number she had for her ex’s brother.
This last month has been filled with attempts to contact the brother, tracking him from one address to the next, and two weeks ago I finally found him halfway across the county from where I initially thought he would be. He confirmed the suspicions I had over two decades ago, that Val’s ex practically vanished because he was in prison. He was full of details that I never would have guessed and was highly suspect regarding the truthfulness of them, but he pointed me in the right direction and assured me that Erin and Jeff’s father would be glad to hear from me.
When Val married him—having already had Jeff, and not too long after high school—I knew him as Billy, but after leaving prison he began going by his middle name and isn’t keen on sharing it with the world, do for the sake of my own sanity, I’ll just call him Bill here. Bill’s brother was right; he was glad to hear from me and was keenly interested in news about his kids, thrilled that they’re doing so well in spite of their parents, and was overjoyed at how many kids they’ve had.
It was a stark contrast to how my sister reacted at the news of her grandkids, which was mostly Yeah? Nice for them. Where she is almost calculating in creating distance between herself and the idea that her kids have families of their own, Bill wanted every detail I could give him. He also understood when told that Erin isn’t ready to meet him, but that she wanted—for now—to just know that he’s alive and to have a general idea where he is. He’s under no delusions about what his leaving did to his kids, but he’s open to them knowing why, especially if they know where he is now and how far removed he is from the things that put him feet first into a vat of legal trouble.
He’s more than willing to share details with me, as long as I don’t also dwell on Val’s part of it. And in hearing that, so many pieces of the Val Puzzle fell into place. Her actions and inactions, her squirrely and fairly despicable behaviors over the last 30 years, and her attitude are much more understandable now. I can look back and see how most of her life has been painted with guilt, and without going into too much detail, she has every reason to be wracked with guilt. Bill spent five years in prison to mostly protect her; he took a fall that she should have because he felt that his kids needed their mother, and if he didn’t protect her they would have both wound up in jail, and he had no idea what would have happened to Jeff and to Erin.
I can know the details; the kids, he insists, cannot. I disagree with this on so many levels, but mostly because if they did know, they would understand their mother better. Some wounds might begin to heal. It wouldn’t begin to explain to Erin why Val threw her out when she was 16 and only thought she was pregnant—it never occurred to Val to take her to a doctor and find out for sure—but it would explain to Erin the atmosphere of the environment she grew up in, and why my parents took such a leading reign in her life until they moved here.
Bill didn’t just leave and forget he had kids; Bill left and had no way to stay in contact with them, and Val didn’t help matters any. I believe Jeff and Erin would be better off if they had the full truth; Bill might think he’s still protecting Val by keeping it from them, but I think it would give them a deeper understanding of their mother and the demons that will nip at her heels for the rest of her life. Erin might be more willing to at least consider bridging some distance with her mother.
When Erin was unceremoniously shown the front door, her brother was already out of the house, away at college. He’d weathered his own version of Val as a mother but wasn’t there to see the explosion and thusly does not have those wounds. He’s eager to meet their father, and accepts that there are some things that he won’t be told. He feels he can start from scratch and get to know them man Bill is now, not the man he used to be.
For now, Erin is content to know that he’s all right and he thinks about her frequently; she’s happy that he does want at least some contact, and that he’s fine with her taking however long she needs to decide how she wants to meet him. She’s grateful that he doesn’t mind having a go-between, and that she’ll trust Jeff to be the first of them to actually get on a plane to meet him face to face. She’s relieved that I think he looks fine, acts fine, and that I believe he’s truthful about his past and his life now, and when she’s ready, I’ll go with her.
I have no doubt that eventually the full truth of why Bill left and where he’s been will come out, and when it does I’ll also go with her to see her mother, because I know she’ll want to. And if I’m as truthful about myself, it won’t be painless for me. She might consider me to be her dad, but there’s something very powerful about the draw of one’s biological parents. I’m always very aware that we’ll probably go through this more than once, because after Erin decides to meet or not meet him, and whether or not it leads to some kind of relationship with either or both of her parents, we have to face the fact that in a few years it will be Kevin feeling that pull. Frankly, I’m not ready for any of this.
I think we all (my brother, my ex, and I) expected her ex to stay in contact with their kids, no matter what the reason he had for leaving. He didn’t, though, and Val made it clear to the kids that they should just simply not ask her anything.
I had my suspicions about his whereabouts, but kept them to myself, until late in October when Erin asked me to find him. She’s not ready to face him, but does want him to know she’s interested in him, and that someday, probably someday soon, she’d like to see him and perhaps (a very strong maybe) begin a relationship if that’s what he wants as well.
I approached my sister and got the answer I expected; she doesn’t know where he is and doesn’t care. I spoke to Erin’s brother, who also didn’t know, but was certain he could get at least some basic information out of Val, and after some pressure—he wants as much as Erin does to have at least the option to connect with their father, and if warranted, kick the crap out of him—she relented and gave Jeff the last address and phone number she had for her ex’s brother.
This last month has been filled with attempts to contact the brother, tracking him from one address to the next, and two weeks ago I finally found him halfway across the county from where I initially thought he would be. He confirmed the suspicions I had over two decades ago, that Val’s ex practically vanished because he was in prison. He was full of details that I never would have guessed and was highly suspect regarding the truthfulness of them, but he pointed me in the right direction and assured me that Erin and Jeff’s father would be glad to hear from me.
When Val married him—having already had Jeff, and not too long after high school—I knew him as Billy, but after leaving prison he began going by his middle name and isn’t keen on sharing it with the world, do for the sake of my own sanity, I’ll just call him Bill here. Bill’s brother was right; he was glad to hear from me and was keenly interested in news about his kids, thrilled that they’re doing so well in spite of their parents, and was overjoyed at how many kids they’ve had.
It was a stark contrast to how my sister reacted at the news of her grandkids, which was mostly Yeah? Nice for them. Where she is almost calculating in creating distance between herself and the idea that her kids have families of their own, Bill wanted every detail I could give him. He also understood when told that Erin isn’t ready to meet him, but that she wanted—for now—to just know that he’s alive and to have a general idea where he is. He’s under no delusions about what his leaving did to his kids, but he’s open to them knowing why, especially if they know where he is now and how far removed he is from the things that put him feet first into a vat of legal trouble.
He’s more than willing to share details with me, as long as I don’t also dwell on Val’s part of it. And in hearing that, so many pieces of the Val Puzzle fell into place. Her actions and inactions, her squirrely and fairly despicable behaviors over the last 30 years, and her attitude are much more understandable now. I can look back and see how most of her life has been painted with guilt, and without going into too much detail, she has every reason to be wracked with guilt. Bill spent five years in prison to mostly protect her; he took a fall that she should have because he felt that his kids needed their mother, and if he didn’t protect her they would have both wound up in jail, and he had no idea what would have happened to Jeff and to Erin.
I can know the details; the kids, he insists, cannot. I disagree with this on so many levels, but mostly because if they did know, they would understand their mother better. Some wounds might begin to heal. It wouldn’t begin to explain to Erin why Val threw her out when she was 16 and only thought she was pregnant—it never occurred to Val to take her to a doctor and find out for sure—but it would explain to Erin the atmosphere of the environment she grew up in, and why my parents took such a leading reign in her life until they moved here.
Bill didn’t just leave and forget he had kids; Bill left and had no way to stay in contact with them, and Val didn’t help matters any. I believe Jeff and Erin would be better off if they had the full truth; Bill might think he’s still protecting Val by keeping it from them, but I think it would give them a deeper understanding of their mother and the demons that will nip at her heels for the rest of her life. Erin might be more willing to at least consider bridging some distance with her mother.
When Erin was unceremoniously shown the front door, her brother was already out of the house, away at college. He’d weathered his own version of Val as a mother but wasn’t there to see the explosion and thusly does not have those wounds. He’s eager to meet their father, and accepts that there are some things that he won’t be told. He feels he can start from scratch and get to know them man Bill is now, not the man he used to be.
For now, Erin is content to know that he’s all right and he thinks about her frequently; she’s happy that he does want at least some contact, and that he’s fine with her taking however long she needs to decide how she wants to meet him. She’s grateful that he doesn’t mind having a go-between, and that she’ll trust Jeff to be the first of them to actually get on a plane to meet him face to face. She’s relieved that I think he looks fine, acts fine, and that I believe he’s truthful about his past and his life now, and when she’s ready, I’ll go with her.
I have no doubt that eventually the full truth of why Bill left and where he’s been will come out, and when it does I’ll also go with her to see her mother, because I know she’ll want to. And if I’m as truthful about myself, it won’t be painless for me. She might consider me to be her dad, but there’s something very powerful about the draw of one’s biological parents. I’m always very aware that we’ll probably go through this more than once, because after Erin decides to meet or not meet him, and whether or not it leads to some kind of relationship with either or both of her parents, we have to face the fact that in a few years it will be Kevin feeling that pull. Frankly, I’m not ready for any of this.
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