: Father's Day
Sunday will be my fourth Father's Day.
Sadly, my real father chooses to not be in my life. I've called several times over the past five years, left messages, left instant messages on his account, e-mails, but no response. He's never met his grandson. I wonder if he ever will.
My father's the reason I am the way I am. His technological savvyness is a part of who I am. We always had new technology in the house. I remember him with an audio cassette recorder since my earliest memories (mid 70's) and he has a recording of me counting to forty and saying nursery rhymes when I was eighteen months, which would have been 1974.
We had a computer in the house as long as I can remember. A Datapoint 1170, from which he was allowed to do work at home, since he was that valued an employee. The computer was about the size of a large dresser, with a five or six inch wide computer screen.
He helped me learn my first PC (actually a PC-XT, which had a turbo button, so it could work at 4.77 MHz or at 8 MHz), taught me how to use word processing and basic programming, taught me how to use my modem so I could use bulletin board services.
My mom and he divorced in 1981. It was the last day of third grade, and I went home to my grandmother's house instead of my house. Blame and fault lies on both parties, so I won't go into details about that.
Part of who I am, cold and distant to those that love me most, I get from him as well.
Part of that is all the moving around we had to do. I went to four different elementary schools during fourth grade, three more during fifth grade (including back in Dad's house, when my parents tried to reconcile.) After the divorce, I never went to the same school for more than two years until I went to college.
I was reminded of this earlier this week, seeing a high school friend of mine (who's the de-facto class organizer) posting pictures of our class members from his high school days.
This group, I was never really a part of, even though I've known many of them since fourth grade. See, Adams Hill was one of those fourth grade elementary schools I went to. In fifth grade I started at Ed Cody (which Adams Hill split into), but didn't finish the year. I went to Pease Middle school for sixth and seventh grade, but didn't return until I went to Jay the middle of my eleventh grade year.
I'm not in any of the pictures. I'm barely in the memories. I have many acquaintances, but few friends. Very few.
As a father, I hope one of the things I can provide Miguel is stability. My wife and I have discussed possibly changing his day care into one that is more convenient for us during the summers. But I really want him to stay where he is, hopefully until elementary when we can get him into Kuentz or Helotes. It's important for me to make sure he stays with the friends he's learned so far.
I don't want him to have disposable relationships. They never last long enough, and leave me wanting.
Do they leave my dad wanting? I doubt I'll ever know.
Sunday will be my fourth Father's Day.
Sadly, my real father chooses to not be in my life. I've called several times over the past five years, left messages, left instant messages on his account, e-mails, but no response. He's never met his grandson. I wonder if he ever will.
My father's the reason I am the way I am. His technological savvyness is a part of who I am. We always had new technology in the house. I remember him with an audio cassette recorder since my earliest memories (mid 70's) and he has a recording of me counting to forty and saying nursery rhymes when I was eighteen months, which would have been 1974.
We had a computer in the house as long as I can remember. A Datapoint 1170, from which he was allowed to do work at home, since he was that valued an employee. The computer was about the size of a large dresser, with a five or six inch wide computer screen.
He helped me learn my first PC (actually a PC-XT, which had a turbo button, so it could work at 4.77 MHz or at 8 MHz), taught me how to use word processing and basic programming, taught me how to use my modem so I could use bulletin board services.
My mom and he divorced in 1981. It was the last day of third grade, and I went home to my grandmother's house instead of my house. Blame and fault lies on both parties, so I won't go into details about that.
Part of who I am, cold and distant to those that love me most, I get from him as well.
Part of that is all the moving around we had to do. I went to four different elementary schools during fourth grade, three more during fifth grade (including back in Dad's house, when my parents tried to reconcile.) After the divorce, I never went to the same school for more than two years until I went to college.
I was reminded of this earlier this week, seeing a high school friend of mine (who's the de-facto class organizer) posting pictures of our class members from his high school days.
This group, I was never really a part of, even though I've known many of them since fourth grade. See, Adams Hill was one of those fourth grade elementary schools I went to. In fifth grade I started at Ed Cody (which Adams Hill split into), but didn't finish the year. I went to Pease Middle school for sixth and seventh grade, but didn't return until I went to Jay the middle of my eleventh grade year.
I'm not in any of the pictures. I'm barely in the memories. I have many acquaintances, but few friends. Very few.
As a father, I hope one of the things I can provide Miguel is stability. My wife and I have discussed possibly changing his day care into one that is more convenient for us during the summers. But I really want him to stay where he is, hopefully until elementary when we can get him into Kuentz or Helotes. It's important for me to make sure he stays with the friends he's learned so far.
I don't want him to have disposable relationships. They never last long enough, and leave me wanting.
Do they leave my dad wanting? I doubt I'll ever know.