Fathers' Day
Life in a new city is lonely. Especially when you don't start work for a very long time and everyone you know is way too busy with their own lives to acknowledge your existence, let alone actually spend time with you. I think that my loneliness lead to my frustration about my job. If there is one thing that I shouldn't be aloud to do too much of, it's thinking. You know, I'm a thinkaholic. I just start thinking and I can't stop. Strange thoughts, fears, doubts, and curiosities fill my head. I've decided to try not to spend too much time alone in the next few weeks, just so I don't suffer from anymore anxiety build ups.
In an effort to have some contact with actual human beings, I went down to UArts on Broad Street Friday afternoon to have lunch with some of the kids dancing at the New Festival. They told me we were going to have lunch at the Bellview, which sounded very impressive. It turned out to be a foodcourt underneath the actual Bellview hotel. It was still sorta classy. It was certainly the classiest pizza bagel I've ever had. It came with a side of pickles. That's pretty classy in my book. We had a really good time and I got to see some people I haven't seen in a long time. Oh course that meant I had to explain to them that I'll be teaching ESL in the fall which required me to subsequently explain that I can't speak Spanish. Nikki suggested that I use a sarcastic comeback when people are shocked at my less than stellar linguistic abilities:
ME: I'll be teaching English as a Second Language in the Fall.
RANDOM PERSON: Do you speak Spanish?
ME: No, I don't.
RANDOM PERSON: Well how can you teach that then?
ME: Perhaps you didn't hear me. I said I'll be teaching ENGLISH as a Second Language.
I only used that sarcastic dialogue on one person so far, it's definitely a conversation killer.
Friday afternoon I walked back to the apartment because the bus schedule still confuses the hell out of me. It was a long walk there and back, but long walks are always rewarding in one way or another. I came back and watched some AMC and cleaned the apartment, like a good housewife. Then Nikki came home, completely exhausted. We decided not to go out, but rather to do some quick shopping at Beyond the Wall on South Street and pick up some Chinese food on the way home. We now have several lovely framed prints hanging in our apartment. It looks nice. There is a pun in there but you won't get it until you actually see the apartment. We pigged out on Chinese food and rocked out to Party Favorites, Comcast Digital channel 421. Best. Music. Ever.
After a night of VERY strange dreams--do largely to the fact that I never sleep well with that much MSG coursing through my system--I got up and did some Dad & Grad shopping. I got John Neff a good map of Philly and a guidebook. He's gonna need it. I got Jess a couple of books that I doubt very much that she'll read. It doesn't matter though, books are my favorite gift to give and to receive. I got my Dad Angels & Demons. Mostly so that I could read it when he's done. Then I headed over to my Aunt's new house in the Boro. It's absolutely amazing. Lots of recessed lighting. I don't know what it is, but I certainly enjoy recessed lighting. (Recessed lighting, vaulted ceilings, and exposed brick are my three favorite interior design elements. Just incase you were wondering.) The boys were well behaved because they had just woken from a nap. Children are always more fun when they are groggy and disoriented. I then drove to Rosenhayn, had a quick lunch, and got ready for the rest of my day: back to back graduation parties.
Around 6:00 I headed over to the Neffs for John's graduation party where I was warmly welcomed by the entire family--whom I haven't seen in a very long time. Before long the place was filled with very familiar faces I haven't seen in years. I got to spend quite a bit of time with Jessie, Tim, and Burns. We talked about many things including the Jeopardy board, Ross Ossiboff, AP Calculus, special brownies, and a certain "hood" who brought a gun to the Neff house once upon a time. We shared some a Jessie's secrets with Mrs. Neff, but we held onto a few. Some things just aren't funny until at least a decade has passed. By the way, Molly the Dog is still alive. I'm sure you're just as surprised as I am.
Then I headed back to Rosenhayn for Jess DeMarco's graduation party. This is where things get interesting. And by interesting, I mean frustrating. People tend to get a kick out of me being frustrated, so you should all enjoy this. My father, while I was at the Neff party, had a few beers. I should say this about my father, he's a lightweight. He only drinks on Saturday nights. Two beers and he goes to bed. But something must have fired him up that night. Because when I got home he was on number four, and he was a ball of energy.
CLIFF: Where were you?
ME: The Neffs.
CLIFF: Oh. So are we going to Jessica's now?
ME: We?
CLIFF: We should go pretty soon. It's getting late.
ME: We?
CLIFF: C'mon! (out the door)
ME: We?
So my father insisted on going to Jessica's party. We walked, since she lives through my back yard and three houses down. Walking turned out to be a good idea because even a 20 second drive would have been nearly impossible by the end of the night. Jesus.
I understand that my father is lonely and has nobody to really spend time with socially. I try to be sympathetic to that as best I can. But he's fifty-four years old. More than twice as old as most of the people at this party. I mean, there were a few older people. Jessica's parents, her grandparents, her aunt. Mrs. Vagnerelli (the real life Vicky Davis, for those of you who follow my work). But by 11:30 or so, most of the grown-ups had gone to bed. But my father was hanging in there. He and I had this conversation several times throughout the night:
ME: So. You gettin' tired?
CLIFF: Nope.
ME: It's really late, though.
CLIFF: I feel wide awake!
ME: You sure?
CLIFF: Yes. Why? Are you tired?
ME: Nope. Not at all.
CLIFF: Fine then.
Well, we got "hit in the ass" as he would put it. Him drinking to keep up with the kids, me drinking to deal with the fact that he was still there. He tried to learn beer pong, but declined many invites to take a "celebrity shot" because just enjoyed watching the game. He was like a buzzard, picking at the food that remained from earlier. Somehow he kept finding more and more cheese. He and Shea Reed are now best friends. When the keg was kicked, we flocked over to the hard stuff and kicked the game into high gear. At this point it's nearly 2am, and he's showing no signs of letting up. It wouldn't have been so bad, I guess, but there were many times where he was just standing by himself, staring at nothing. I wanted to mingle and talk to my friends, but I was always just so nervous because he'd be standing there doing absolutely nothing like some sort of catatonic. Although he seemed happy, I still couldn't help but feel like he was out of place. Probably because he's an active AARP member and most of the people left aren't even old enough to rent a car. By 2:30 I had enough and told him that I was leaving but he could stay if he wanted to. He decided to leave with me--because I think he was just about as drunk as he has been since he was my age. Here's a snippet of our conversation on the way home:
CLIFF: Man. Tell you what, I think the girls are worse then the guys. Girls gone wild, huh? Get it?
ME: Yup.
CLIFF: College girls gone wild! HAHAHAHAH! Get it?
ME: There's nothing to get. You just said "College girls gone wild." It wasn't a joke. You just said the name of something. That's not a joke. That doesn't qualify as a joke.
CLIFF: You don't get it. College girls gone wild. That's pretty clever. Hey, slow down, you're walking too fast.
ME: This is how I walk, you'll have to keep up.
CLIFF: Did I do something wrong?
ME: This is how I walk, you'll have to keep up!
CLIFF: Did I do something wrong?!
ME: This is just how I walk!!
CLIFF: I want somebody to shoot me.
It's odd how when you're drunk, you think that the best way to support your case in an argument is to simply repeat the last thing you said over and over again. It never really seems to lead you anywhere.
He went to bed and I tried to calm down a bit. Luckily, Carolyn was online and she was able to talk me down. I guess I drunk dialed her earlier in the evening anyway, so this was a good followup. By 4am, I was ready to give bed a try. Despite the fact that I was drunk when I first typed it, I still stand by my drunken away message: "Carolyn Busa is the most amazing and most beautiful woman alive." Even in complete sobriety on a Monday afternoon, I still whole heartedly believe that statement.
Sunday morning was pretty rough for both of us, but even more so for him. We didn't really talk about it that much. We had Advil for breakfast and watched Batman in complete silence until 11am. He then turned to me and said "That Joker was a crazy bitch." How can I stay mad at that for very long?
After a slow start we finally got moving. We went to my uncle's house in Hopewell for a Fathers' Day BBQ. I guess it was a good thing I didn't kill my father the night before, considering that it was Fathers' Day and all. The boys had a blast terrorizing their cousin Brianna. They--for some reason--love mud. Brianna was very distraught to find the boys taking buckets of sand from her sandbox and slowly turning her tiny pool into a mud pit. It probably would have been easier to bring the water to the sand, but when you're two years old, logic sometimes eludes you. My uncles and I watched the whole thing, but we didn't stop them because it was hilarious. Well, it was hilarious until Josh--soaked in mud--ran up and jumped into my lap. Little bastard. Yet another reason not to have kids of my own.
Afterward, I went home and took out my Spanish for Gringos book. I figured I have to learn something before I walk into the classroom with these kids. The book is pretty good and the title made me laugh. I also bought a book called Spanish for Educators, but it's way less fun than Spanish for Gringos.
This morning my dad and I went kayaking on Union Lake. I think it meant a lot to him. I guess we're both pretty lonely, and I think that thinkaholism runs in the family. This much time to think is never good for either of us. As much as it tries my patience, I think I'm going to have to spend more time hanging out with him. I'm all he has left. As lonely as I feel when my friends don't call me back or when my social plans get canceled--his loneliness is infinitely worse. It's not always convenient to spend time with the people you care about, but once you realize that people actually need you in their lives, you have a responsibility to them to be there as much as you can.
That said, my father just told me he's still considering coming to the bar tonight for Maria's birthday.
Fathers' Day is over. I can kill him now if I have to.
In an effort to have some contact with actual human beings, I went down to UArts on Broad Street Friday afternoon to have lunch with some of the kids dancing at the New Festival. They told me we were going to have lunch at the Bellview, which sounded very impressive. It turned out to be a foodcourt underneath the actual Bellview hotel. It was still sorta classy. It was certainly the classiest pizza bagel I've ever had. It came with a side of pickles. That's pretty classy in my book. We had a really good time and I got to see some people I haven't seen in a long time. Oh course that meant I had to explain to them that I'll be teaching ESL in the fall which required me to subsequently explain that I can't speak Spanish. Nikki suggested that I use a sarcastic comeback when people are shocked at my less than stellar linguistic abilities:
ME: I'll be teaching English as a Second Language in the Fall.
RANDOM PERSON: Do you speak Spanish?
ME: No, I don't.
RANDOM PERSON: Well how can you teach that then?
ME: Perhaps you didn't hear me. I said I'll be teaching ENGLISH as a Second Language.
I only used that sarcastic dialogue on one person so far, it's definitely a conversation killer.
Friday afternoon I walked back to the apartment because the bus schedule still confuses the hell out of me. It was a long walk there and back, but long walks are always rewarding in one way or another. I came back and watched some AMC and cleaned the apartment, like a good housewife. Then Nikki came home, completely exhausted. We decided not to go out, but rather to do some quick shopping at Beyond the Wall on South Street and pick up some Chinese food on the way home. We now have several lovely framed prints hanging in our apartment. It looks nice. There is a pun in there but you won't get it until you actually see the apartment. We pigged out on Chinese food and rocked out to Party Favorites, Comcast Digital channel 421. Best. Music. Ever.
After a night of VERY strange dreams--do largely to the fact that I never sleep well with that much MSG coursing through my system--I got up and did some Dad & Grad shopping. I got John Neff a good map of Philly and a guidebook. He's gonna need it. I got Jess a couple of books that I doubt very much that she'll read. It doesn't matter though, books are my favorite gift to give and to receive. I got my Dad Angels & Demons. Mostly so that I could read it when he's done. Then I headed over to my Aunt's new house in the Boro. It's absolutely amazing. Lots of recessed lighting. I don't know what it is, but I certainly enjoy recessed lighting. (Recessed lighting, vaulted ceilings, and exposed brick are my three favorite interior design elements. Just incase you were wondering.) The boys were well behaved because they had just woken from a nap. Children are always more fun when they are groggy and disoriented. I then drove to Rosenhayn, had a quick lunch, and got ready for the rest of my day: back to back graduation parties.
Around 6:00 I headed over to the Neffs for John's graduation party where I was warmly welcomed by the entire family--whom I haven't seen in a very long time. Before long the place was filled with very familiar faces I haven't seen in years. I got to spend quite a bit of time with Jessie, Tim, and Burns. We talked about many things including the Jeopardy board, Ross Ossiboff, AP Calculus, special brownies, and a certain "hood" who brought a gun to the Neff house once upon a time. We shared some a Jessie's secrets with Mrs. Neff, but we held onto a few. Some things just aren't funny until at least a decade has passed. By the way, Molly the Dog is still alive. I'm sure you're just as surprised as I am.
Then I headed back to Rosenhayn for Jess DeMarco's graduation party. This is where things get interesting. And by interesting, I mean frustrating. People tend to get a kick out of me being frustrated, so you should all enjoy this. My father, while I was at the Neff party, had a few beers. I should say this about my father, he's a lightweight. He only drinks on Saturday nights. Two beers and he goes to bed. But something must have fired him up that night. Because when I got home he was on number four, and he was a ball of energy.
CLIFF: Where were you?
ME: The Neffs.
CLIFF: Oh. So are we going to Jessica's now?
ME: We?
CLIFF: We should go pretty soon. It's getting late.
ME: We?
CLIFF: C'mon! (out the door)
ME: We?
So my father insisted on going to Jessica's party. We walked, since she lives through my back yard and three houses down. Walking turned out to be a good idea because even a 20 second drive would have been nearly impossible by the end of the night. Jesus.
I understand that my father is lonely and has nobody to really spend time with socially. I try to be sympathetic to that as best I can. But he's fifty-four years old. More than twice as old as most of the people at this party. I mean, there were a few older people. Jessica's parents, her grandparents, her aunt. Mrs. Vagnerelli (the real life Vicky Davis, for those of you who follow my work). But by 11:30 or so, most of the grown-ups had gone to bed. But my father was hanging in there. He and I had this conversation several times throughout the night:
ME: So. You gettin' tired?
CLIFF: Nope.
ME: It's really late, though.
CLIFF: I feel wide awake!
ME: You sure?
CLIFF: Yes. Why? Are you tired?
ME: Nope. Not at all.
CLIFF: Fine then.
Well, we got "hit in the ass" as he would put it. Him drinking to keep up with the kids, me drinking to deal with the fact that he was still there. He tried to learn beer pong, but declined many invites to take a "celebrity shot" because just enjoyed watching the game. He was like a buzzard, picking at the food that remained from earlier. Somehow he kept finding more and more cheese. He and Shea Reed are now best friends. When the keg was kicked, we flocked over to the hard stuff and kicked the game into high gear. At this point it's nearly 2am, and he's showing no signs of letting up. It wouldn't have been so bad, I guess, but there were many times where he was just standing by himself, staring at nothing. I wanted to mingle and talk to my friends, but I was always just so nervous because he'd be standing there doing absolutely nothing like some sort of catatonic. Although he seemed happy, I still couldn't help but feel like he was out of place. Probably because he's an active AARP member and most of the people left aren't even old enough to rent a car. By 2:30 I had enough and told him that I was leaving but he could stay if he wanted to. He decided to leave with me--because I think he was just about as drunk as he has been since he was my age. Here's a snippet of our conversation on the way home:
CLIFF: Man. Tell you what, I think the girls are worse then the guys. Girls gone wild, huh? Get it?
ME: Yup.
CLIFF: College girls gone wild! HAHAHAHAH! Get it?
ME: There's nothing to get. You just said "College girls gone wild." It wasn't a joke. You just said the name of something. That's not a joke. That doesn't qualify as a joke.
CLIFF: You don't get it. College girls gone wild. That's pretty clever. Hey, slow down, you're walking too fast.
ME: This is how I walk, you'll have to keep up.
CLIFF: Did I do something wrong?
ME: This is how I walk, you'll have to keep up!
CLIFF: Did I do something wrong?!
ME: This is just how I walk!!
CLIFF: I want somebody to shoot me.
It's odd how when you're drunk, you think that the best way to support your case in an argument is to simply repeat the last thing you said over and over again. It never really seems to lead you anywhere.
He went to bed and I tried to calm down a bit. Luckily, Carolyn was online and she was able to talk me down. I guess I drunk dialed her earlier in the evening anyway, so this was a good followup. By 4am, I was ready to give bed a try. Despite the fact that I was drunk when I first typed it, I still stand by my drunken away message: "Carolyn Busa is the most amazing and most beautiful woman alive." Even in complete sobriety on a Monday afternoon, I still whole heartedly believe that statement.
Sunday morning was pretty rough for both of us, but even more so for him. We didn't really talk about it that much. We had Advil for breakfast and watched Batman in complete silence until 11am. He then turned to me and said "That Joker was a crazy bitch." How can I stay mad at that for very long?
After a slow start we finally got moving. We went to my uncle's house in Hopewell for a Fathers' Day BBQ. I guess it was a good thing I didn't kill my father the night before, considering that it was Fathers' Day and all. The boys had a blast terrorizing their cousin Brianna. They--for some reason--love mud. Brianna was very distraught to find the boys taking buckets of sand from her sandbox and slowly turning her tiny pool into a mud pit. It probably would have been easier to bring the water to the sand, but when you're two years old, logic sometimes eludes you. My uncles and I watched the whole thing, but we didn't stop them because it was hilarious. Well, it was hilarious until Josh--soaked in mud--ran up and jumped into my lap. Little bastard. Yet another reason not to have kids of my own.
Afterward, I went home and took out my Spanish for Gringos book. I figured I have to learn something before I walk into the classroom with these kids. The book is pretty good and the title made me laugh. I also bought a book called Spanish for Educators, but it's way less fun than Spanish for Gringos.
This morning my dad and I went kayaking on Union Lake. I think it meant a lot to him. I guess we're both pretty lonely, and I think that thinkaholism runs in the family. This much time to think is never good for either of us. As much as it tries my patience, I think I'm going to have to spend more time hanging out with him. I'm all he has left. As lonely as I feel when my friends don't call me back or when my social plans get canceled--his loneliness is infinitely worse. It's not always convenient to spend time with the people you care about, but once you realize that people actually need you in their lives, you have a responsibility to them to be there as much as you can.
That said, my father just told me he's still considering coming to the bar tonight for Maria's birthday.
Fathers' Day is over. I can kill him now if I have to.