More turmoil, served cold
This past Sunday, just as I was preparing to head to the Dunkin' Donuts down the street for some coffee and a bacon, egg, and cheese garlic bagel, I got a disturbing call from my mother. Before I get into that, how about a little background?
My parents have been divorced for probably 15 years and are both remarried. Both of their new spouses came with two children, one boy and one girl each. My younger brother, Steven, and I didn't really harbor any resentment about the dissolution of their marriage. My mom's new husband is a great guy, I like him a lot. His kids, particularly his daughter, seem really spoiled, but we base that on how we were brought up. We were certainly not coddled like these kids, and it makes us a little bitter. My father's wife, on the other hand is a different story.
My father is a very Blue Collar kind of guy. His entire life has been devoted to working on cars and in industrial jobs. He's a hard-working, no-nonsense, bullheaded kind of guy. He's no moron, but not particularly what one would call book-smart. I've always been exactly the opposite... Book smart, but sometimes lacking in common sense. Don't even ask me to figure out how to fix anything on a car, I might cause it to explode. My brother always took after my father; he's virtually a clone, and the two of them were infinitely closer than my father and I growing up.
Now, back to my father's new bride. This woman is a physical therapist, pretty far removed from what my father does. You have to be pretty intelligent to do that sort of work, and I can respect that. The problem is that I often think that she looks down on my family and thinks we're inferior. There's a whole history of malice that I don't feel like getting into, but the end result is that I haven't spoken to my father or his wife for nearly a year, and my brother hasn't spoken to them in probably close to three years.
So, back to the phone call... My mother called to inform me that my father had called her (not us, mind you) to tell us to either pick up the items we had stored in his garage attic or he was going to throw them away. As an added bonus, he indicated that he had disowned both of us...
Knowing how my father is, I was sure my stuff would be out in the trash unless I went to pick it up immediately. I called him on the way over to his house and had quite a corker of a shouting heart-to-heart with him. For some reason, shouting seems the only way to get through to him, though it's fairly contrary to my nature. I really try very hard to maintain my composure at all times for a number or reasons. For one, it almost never helps to freak out, it just makes things worse. For another, I'm physically a pretty big and powerful guy, and if I unleashed my rage in the form of violence, it would probably be really bad for all concerned. Anyway, during the call on the way over, I laid out my feelings on pretty much the whole deal with respect to our estrangement and what I viewed as the causes, which boiled down mostly to his wife and how she treats my brother and I. I figured that it might be the last time I ever talked to him, so I had nothing to lose. During the shouting, I actually told him (for the one and only time in my post-childhood years, I think) that I loved and respected him and that I knew he had always done the best he could.
The argument still raged on, but I think that the whole love and respect thing may have softened him a little. When I arrived at his house, he and his wife were conveniently washing one of their cars right where I had to pick up my stuff. I loaded all that would fit in the car, wondering if anyone was going to address me. As it turned out, no one did, and as is usual in my family, I had to step up and be the reasonable one. I approached my step-mother, who, despite her denials, is really the core of the problem, and said (somewhat melodramatically, I admit), "This is your last chance for peace. Will you take it?"
Again, I admit that it was a little dramatic, but the gravity of the situation was very real in my mind. My father is not the type to apologize even when he's wrong, and while I claim to be a reasonable man, I am still my father's son; I'm not about to go kissing anyone's ass for any reason, not even my father's.
She seemed a little confused by what I said, perhaps thrown by the soap opera delivery, but we at least began to speak. The entire time, I showed exemplary composure, though it was unfathomably difficulty. I'm glad I was wearing sunglasses, because my eye actually began to twitch with the effort of restraining myself. (My brother's wife found this absolutely hilarious when I told her. She thought that sort of thing only happened in cartoons.)
Old grievances were aired again and my father came about as close as I've ever seen him to expressing real emotion, and I called for a truce. I'm willing to try to start over to salvage my relationship with my father, even if it means making an effort to be more civil to his bride. It's going to be tough, but it's better than losing my dad.
My brother and father, I fear, will never reconcile, save perhaps on one or the other's deathbed. As I said, they're virtually the same person. I've tried to broker peace between them before, and since neither is willing to budge, I can't do a thing with them. I've decided that they're on their own, as it's tough enough dealing with just one of them, let alone two.
At the end of the day, it seems like I at least have a shot at rebuilding my relationship with my father. He said I'm allowed to call him if I feel like it, and I'm trying to find something that he would be interested in doing with me some weekend. I'm guessing it will have to be some stupid car show or something that I have no interest in, since our interests are almost mutually exclusive. Anyway, I'm going to make an effort to rebuild and be a better son. Perhaps in time my brother will do the same, though I kinda doubt it...
My parents have been divorced for probably 15 years and are both remarried. Both of their new spouses came with two children, one boy and one girl each. My younger brother, Steven, and I didn't really harbor any resentment about the dissolution of their marriage. My mom's new husband is a great guy, I like him a lot. His kids, particularly his daughter, seem really spoiled, but we base that on how we were brought up. We were certainly not coddled like these kids, and it makes us a little bitter. My father's wife, on the other hand is a different story.
My father is a very Blue Collar kind of guy. His entire life has been devoted to working on cars and in industrial jobs. He's a hard-working, no-nonsense, bullheaded kind of guy. He's no moron, but not particularly what one would call book-smart. I've always been exactly the opposite... Book smart, but sometimes lacking in common sense. Don't even ask me to figure out how to fix anything on a car, I might cause it to explode. My brother always took after my father; he's virtually a clone, and the two of them were infinitely closer than my father and I growing up.
Now, back to my father's new bride. This woman is a physical therapist, pretty far removed from what my father does. You have to be pretty intelligent to do that sort of work, and I can respect that. The problem is that I often think that she looks down on my family and thinks we're inferior. There's a whole history of malice that I don't feel like getting into, but the end result is that I haven't spoken to my father or his wife for nearly a year, and my brother hasn't spoken to them in probably close to three years.
So, back to the phone call... My mother called to inform me that my father had called her (not us, mind you) to tell us to either pick up the items we had stored in his garage attic or he was going to throw them away. As an added bonus, he indicated that he had disowned both of us...
Knowing how my father is, I was sure my stuff would be out in the trash unless I went to pick it up immediately. I called him on the way over to his house and had quite a corker of a shouting heart-to-heart with him. For some reason, shouting seems the only way to get through to him, though it's fairly contrary to my nature. I really try very hard to maintain my composure at all times for a number or reasons. For one, it almost never helps to freak out, it just makes things worse. For another, I'm physically a pretty big and powerful guy, and if I unleashed my rage in the form of violence, it would probably be really bad for all concerned. Anyway, during the call on the way over, I laid out my feelings on pretty much the whole deal with respect to our estrangement and what I viewed as the causes, which boiled down mostly to his wife and how she treats my brother and I. I figured that it might be the last time I ever talked to him, so I had nothing to lose. During the shouting, I actually told him (for the one and only time in my post-childhood years, I think) that I loved and respected him and that I knew he had always done the best he could.
The argument still raged on, but I think that the whole love and respect thing may have softened him a little. When I arrived at his house, he and his wife were conveniently washing one of their cars right where I had to pick up my stuff. I loaded all that would fit in the car, wondering if anyone was going to address me. As it turned out, no one did, and as is usual in my family, I had to step up and be the reasonable one. I approached my step-mother, who, despite her denials, is really the core of the problem, and said (somewhat melodramatically, I admit), "This is your last chance for peace. Will you take it?"
Again, I admit that it was a little dramatic, but the gravity of the situation was very real in my mind. My father is not the type to apologize even when he's wrong, and while I claim to be a reasonable man, I am still my father's son; I'm not about to go kissing anyone's ass for any reason, not even my father's.
She seemed a little confused by what I said, perhaps thrown by the soap opera delivery, but we at least began to speak. The entire time, I showed exemplary composure, though it was unfathomably difficulty. I'm glad I was wearing sunglasses, because my eye actually began to twitch with the effort of restraining myself. (My brother's wife found this absolutely hilarious when I told her. She thought that sort of thing only happened in cartoons.)
Old grievances were aired again and my father came about as close as I've ever seen him to expressing real emotion, and I called for a truce. I'm willing to try to start over to salvage my relationship with my father, even if it means making an effort to be more civil to his bride. It's going to be tough, but it's better than losing my dad.
My brother and father, I fear, will never reconcile, save perhaps on one or the other's deathbed. As I said, they're virtually the same person. I've tried to broker peace between them before, and since neither is willing to budge, I can't do a thing with them. I've decided that they're on their own, as it's tough enough dealing with just one of them, let alone two.
At the end of the day, it seems like I at least have a shot at rebuilding my relationship with my father. He said I'm allowed to call him if I feel like it, and I'm trying to find something that he would be interested in doing with me some weekend. I'm guessing it will have to be some stupid car show or something that I have no interest in, since our interests are almost mutually exclusive. Anyway, I'm going to make an effort to rebuild and be a better son. Perhaps in time my brother will do the same, though I kinda doubt it...