Just the other day I was thinking about my three sons and two daughters and came to the conclusion that my role as a father was little more than donating sperm, changing diapers and (more recently) being someone to blame for not having all their dreams come true. I am sorry to hear that Garrison sees himself as a failed father but glad to hear that I'm not the only one.
Good am! Your comments about AA are unfortunate, a simple example of someone prejudging something (prejudice?).
You quite simply have no idea what you are talking about. AA is much more than people telling sad stories which I hear ofttimes around lunch table with friends.
Your comment about AS meeting breaking up into discussion groups made me laugh out loud. Just never happens. At AA meetings we share thoughts and stories about such things as love, faith, forgiveness, willingness, serenity, perseverance,courage, humility, and yes, anger, resentment, and fear, and the list goes on. No doesn’t work for everyone.
That’s perfectly ok. Just as marriage, having kids and going to college don’t work for everyone. But you know all that.
I love your work and keep it up as long as you breathe. You have inspired many an early coffee morning. Nobody is perfect. Just avoid making judgements about things you don’t understand.
I have a relative in AA (it's anonymous, of course, so that's the closest I'll get to identifying this relative - that means that this post is going to get a little convoluted - my apologies in advance). I have no idea what went on during the meetings (again, it's anonymous, so it's never been discussed), but AA did wonders for X. X took up fishing instead of drinking and hasn't had a drink in over 25 years. X was given a medallion for hitting a milestone, and X gave it to X's mother - she was very proud. Based on how AA has helped X, I feel that AA must be a good thing.
Lighten up a bit. As one who has been around "the rooms" for decades, I appreciate Gary's little observation. It's comedy and, as such, sometimes requires a little exaggerated poetic license, including making judgements once in a while for effect.
My decision to avoid AA was indeed based on ignorance, just as my decision not to travel to Rwanda or not to marry a woman I liked or not to become a teacher. I've been travelling in the dark for years. I have friends who AA has helped enormously. Good.
My father was a good man, quiet and distant. He and my mother divorced when I was just 7 and we moved away. My brother and I saw him on weekends and did cool things together like going to Newark airport and watching planes land and takeoff from the observation deck, things you can't do anymore. We'd take rides up the Hudson on the Palisades Parkway and along the cliffs lining the river or stay at his apartment, play guitar, count coins and eat Steakum Sandwiches. He would tell us about his childhood in Germany and he was good to us. Then he remarried to a woman who had two kids of his own and he sequestered himself to the screenhouse outback while his new bride took over the house and filled the garage with "stuff". But Dad continued to provide. Sadly he passed at 63 from a botched operation, unhappy and dissatisfied with where his life lead him.
My stepfather on the other hand was a hard-ass. Constantly yelling at my brother and being verbally abusive to my mother at times. He was a union man and had to deal with strikes and whatever they told him to do. He wasn't a bad step-father, but he wasn't a great father.
I never became a father, I immediately became a step-father to two girls and, on agreement, I would be left out of the raising of the girls, I would not be "hands-on" if you will. I would be there, but that's about it. I did my best, but I failed in molding these little girls into productive and successful women. I was nothing more than a paycheck, the guy who took out the garbage, fixed it if it was broken and did maintenance around the house. I always felt I was in the way, the third wheel and now I get gratuitous fathers day cards that bear questionable sincerity. These women, now in their 40's, have ignored and squandered their potential and wonder why their lives are so meaningless. I tried to teach by example, work hard, earn your way, conduct yourself in a respectable manner, always motivated and eager to learn and do more. All of which fell on deaf ears to the attraction of attention and popularity. So their failure is my fault? Apparently.
Fatherhood, as I have come to learn, is the acceptance of responsibility with no reward and all the blame. It is what we do, honorably, expecting nothing in return and eventually sequester ourselves to the screen house out back.
Thank you GK for the insights and honesty. I just finished reading Boom Town in the lounge at CHS while waiting for my flight back to jfk. I literally wept as I finished page 214. Beautiful book. Pure You and why your readers and listeners love you. Bravo! Have a great weekend and thank you for the telic storytelling you generously provide. Selah!
What a great something of a tribute. So funny. So true. And I'm guessing you'll appreciate (?) the impassioned message of Reshma Soojani on being a mother in America today. Hey, she's done a book, and fathers come up, too. Here's her great interview from just last night with Christiane Amanpour. Someday maybe you could sit down with Christiane, too. We could use your angle. https://www.pbs.org/wnet/amanpour-and-company/video/the-pandemics-toll-on-working-moms-czabfk/
I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I suspect this is your goal. Instead, I will remember my own father who no other man ever equaled. At my 75 years of age, he is still my prince. I have outlived him by almosg 13 years. A tragedy. He was a role model father for the ages. He taught me to look people in the eye, to shake hands firmly, to leave the bathroom sink wiped down (yes, airport, restaurants too), to leave the last serving for someone else (even if it was my favorite), he taught me that the first person to lose their temper loses the argument.He taught me that a man who introduces himsemself to others as "Mr." may doubt his own masculinity if he feels he has to define it to others. He never refused a request for help from a street person, but joined them for a hearty dinner rather than to give them money. He also taught me to send flowers to my mother on MY birthday. Well, that gives you the idea. Miss you, Poppa Oh, I almost forgot tne most fun part! He taught me to handicap horse races whe I was 9.
I think you might like my grandmother's Mothers' Day poem, written ca. 1950. She was Margaret (Whipple) Follett, wife of Wilson ("Modern American Usage") Follett.
Thanks Garrison. My dad was a good, kind, and decent man. He worked tirelessly and provided a safe home. We knew for certain we were loved and valued. It was only years later, in therapy, that the therapist tried to talk me into believing he was practicing a newly discovered form of abuse because he let my mother do the work on the emotional front. I stopped going to that therapist. May the good Lord (and our children's therapists) have mercy on all of us dads.
I have better memories of my father than you (or many of the other commenters). It would take a book to describe him (one I should write) but briefly he was not very demonstrative (or family was no huggers) but I remember sitting on his lap and him reading to me or playing catch in the meadow near our house in NE Minneapolis. He only had an 8th grade education in a one room school but was very well read on a number of subjects. Said I'd have to go to the U (of MN) since it was just 3 miles away and it was the only school he could afford. Weel, all he had to provide was room and board for 3 years until I got married since I had scholarships all the way through. We probably got closer when we batched it since my mother died halfway through my sophomore year. We had some heated discussions but one time, over doing the dishes, I said, Dad, do you realize we're arguing toward the middle, and he agreed. He survived two 29 year marriages (both my mother and my stepmother were great) and died peacefully in his easy chair, reading the Bible. He and my mother helped make me the person I am.
My Dad was like you! He told the best stories and had a great sense of humor! He also ran a tight ship with the rules of the house! One rule was that there was no use of the phone during dinner. Dinner began at 6:00pm, and he would say grace. One night just as he rose to say grace, the phone rang. He grabbed the phone and said "O, Lord, for what we are about to receive...". He realized he was speaking into the phone! Like you ,he loved and respected our Mother and we were always to rise when she walked into the room.and to thank her for the meat loaf and Jello salad. Amen
I was so impressed by your openness about your failures as a father! And the following praise for the mother who nurtured and raised your child (children?) so beautifully alone. That is exactly how it was in my childhood, and in the home my husband and I made for our own children. But, Garrison, none of us knew any better, back in those days. Being an octogenarian also, I know these things for sure. But, no guilt. We are still married and our kids love us!
And we all love your work and your humor…..wise and helpful.
Your father sounds somewhat life mine. My father loved the garden and his cows. So, if he was not at work, he was in the garden or the pasture.
My Dad read little other than the local newspaper. Most of what he knew was picked up from his personal observation. But it was amazing the things which he had picked up in observing the garden, the weather, pasture, etc. He knew when and how to do everything because of what he had tried in the past and what had worked.
He spent most of his life doing things that he liked to do and the things he did were mostly worthwhile things to do. Things to help and provide for his family.
My Dad and I were completely different people in our likes and interests. But like him I try to spend my time doing worthwhile things which I hope will be things which I like to do.
A few nights ago, we watched reruns of Ken Burn's series on Country Music. They mentioned the move from the Ryman Auditorium to Opryland in 1974 and showed a picture of a young writer from the New Yorker.
Your planned show at the Ryman on July 10 will be what -- maybe your 4th or 5th or 6th trip there?
At any rate, I hope that it will be a tremendous success. There are always critics and naysayers. But success is the best revenge.
Maybe you should not have retired from PHC. You seem to have an innate talent for doing the show. Just walk out on stage and start talking.
When I look back on my life, I think that I was about 60 years old before I knew what was going on. A lot of what happened to me (including many good things) were things which I had not planned. Several people helped me with unexpected advice and recommendations.
So I don't want to be too critical of my Dad and other relatives. Given the situation they probably did the best that they could. I don't know that I could have done better if I had been in their situations.
Well, fair enough, Garrison, but I have to say that in my case most of my enduring values worth keeping came from...my Dad. After Sunday dinners at Mom and Dad's I'd have to patiently explain to my (then young) kids that "Granny is a bit racists and we don't use words like... (fill in the blanks). She was a casual racist, if there is such a thing. Generous and a very strong church woman, but racist nonetheless. My Dad, on the other hand, did not go to church (wasn't even of the same religion as Mom and us kids) - his religion was organized labour and, on sober reflection, I have to think that his belief did more for the world than Mom's.
What we learn from our fathers is a better way to fail as a father. The book is forever being codified...Bless us all.
What a wonderful and appropriately self-abasing yet proud declaration. Do wish you'd avoid comma splices, dad.
Just the other day I was thinking about my three sons and two daughters and came to the conclusion that my role as a father was little more than donating sperm, changing diapers and (more recently) being someone to blame for not having all their dreams come true. I am sorry to hear that Garrison sees himself as a failed father but glad to hear that I'm not the only one.
Good am! Your comments about AA are unfortunate, a simple example of someone prejudging something (prejudice?).
You quite simply have no idea what you are talking about. AA is much more than people telling sad stories which I hear ofttimes around lunch table with friends.
Your comment about AS meeting breaking up into discussion groups made me laugh out loud. Just never happens. At AA meetings we share thoughts and stories about such things as love, faith, forgiveness, willingness, serenity, perseverance,courage, humility, and yes, anger, resentment, and fear, and the list goes on. No doesn’t work for everyone.
That’s perfectly ok. Just as marriage, having kids and going to college don’t work for everyone. But you know all that.
I love your work and keep it up as long as you breathe. You have inspired many an early coffee morning. Nobody is perfect. Just avoid making judgements about things you don’t understand.
I have a relative in AA (it's anonymous, of course, so that's the closest I'll get to identifying this relative - that means that this post is going to get a little convoluted - my apologies in advance). I have no idea what went on during the meetings (again, it's anonymous, so it's never been discussed), but AA did wonders for X. X took up fishing instead of drinking and hasn't had a drink in over 25 years. X was given a medallion for hitting a milestone, and X gave it to X's mother - she was very proud. Based on how AA has helped X, I feel that AA must be a good thing.
Lighten up a bit. As one who has been around "the rooms" for decades, I appreciate Gary's little observation. It's comedy and, as such, sometimes requires a little exaggerated poetic license, including making judgements once in a while for effect.
My decision to avoid AA was indeed based on ignorance, just as my decision not to travel to Rwanda or not to marry a woman I liked or not to become a teacher. I've been travelling in the dark for years. I have friends who AA has helped enormously. Good.
Thank you!
My father was a good man, quiet and distant. He and my mother divorced when I was just 7 and we moved away. My brother and I saw him on weekends and did cool things together like going to Newark airport and watching planes land and takeoff from the observation deck, things you can't do anymore. We'd take rides up the Hudson on the Palisades Parkway and along the cliffs lining the river or stay at his apartment, play guitar, count coins and eat Steakum Sandwiches. He would tell us about his childhood in Germany and he was good to us. Then he remarried to a woman who had two kids of his own and he sequestered himself to the screenhouse outback while his new bride took over the house and filled the garage with "stuff". But Dad continued to provide. Sadly he passed at 63 from a botched operation, unhappy and dissatisfied with where his life lead him.
My stepfather on the other hand was a hard-ass. Constantly yelling at my brother and being verbally abusive to my mother at times. He was a union man and had to deal with strikes and whatever they told him to do. He wasn't a bad step-father, but he wasn't a great father.
I never became a father, I immediately became a step-father to two girls and, on agreement, I would be left out of the raising of the girls, I would not be "hands-on" if you will. I would be there, but that's about it. I did my best, but I failed in molding these little girls into productive and successful women. I was nothing more than a paycheck, the guy who took out the garbage, fixed it if it was broken and did maintenance around the house. I always felt I was in the way, the third wheel and now I get gratuitous fathers day cards that bear questionable sincerity. These women, now in their 40's, have ignored and squandered their potential and wonder why their lives are so meaningless. I tried to teach by example, work hard, earn your way, conduct yourself in a respectable manner, always motivated and eager to learn and do more. All of which fell on deaf ears to the attraction of attention and popularity. So their failure is my fault? Apparently.
Fatherhood, as I have come to learn, is the acceptance of responsibility with no reward and all the blame. It is what we do, honorably, expecting nothing in return and eventually sequester ourselves to the screen house out back.
Thank you GK for the insights and honesty. I just finished reading Boom Town in the lounge at CHS while waiting for my flight back to jfk. I literally wept as I finished page 214. Beautiful book. Pure You and why your readers and listeners love you. Bravo! Have a great weekend and thank you for the telic storytelling you generously provide. Selah!
What a great something of a tribute. So funny. So true. And I'm guessing you'll appreciate (?) the impassioned message of Reshma Soojani on being a mother in America today. Hey, she's done a book, and fathers come up, too. Here's her great interview from just last night with Christiane Amanpour. Someday maybe you could sit down with Christiane, too. We could use your angle. https://www.pbs.org/wnet/amanpour-and-company/video/the-pandemics-toll-on-working-moms-czabfk/
I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I suspect this is your goal. Instead, I will remember my own father who no other man ever equaled. At my 75 years of age, he is still my prince. I have outlived him by almosg 13 years. A tragedy. He was a role model father for the ages. He taught me to look people in the eye, to shake hands firmly, to leave the bathroom sink wiped down (yes, airport, restaurants too), to leave the last serving for someone else (even if it was my favorite), he taught me that the first person to lose their temper loses the argument.He taught me that a man who introduces himsemself to others as "Mr." may doubt his own masculinity if he feels he has to define it to others. He never refused a request for help from a street person, but joined them for a hearty dinner rather than to give them money. He also taught me to send flowers to my mother on MY birthday. Well, that gives you the idea. Miss you, Poppa Oh, I almost forgot tne most fun part! He taught me to handicap horse races whe I was 9.
I think you might like my grandmother's Mothers' Day poem, written ca. 1950. She was Margaret (Whipple) Follett, wife of Wilson ("Modern American Usage") Follett.
M is for the milk they spat upon you,
O is for the oomph you haven't got.
T is for the towels they wipe their boots on,
H is for the horror of your lot.
E is for the ease with which you swat them.
R is for the rage that warms your heart.
Put them all together, they spell MOTHER,
The one from whom they're always glad to part.
Thanks Garrison. My dad was a good, kind, and decent man. He worked tirelessly and provided a safe home. We knew for certain we were loved and valued. It was only years later, in therapy, that the therapist tried to talk me into believing he was practicing a newly discovered form of abuse because he let my mother do the work on the emotional front. I stopped going to that therapist. May the good Lord (and our children's therapists) have mercy on all of us dads.
I have better memories of my father than you (or many of the other commenters). It would take a book to describe him (one I should write) but briefly he was not very demonstrative (or family was no huggers) but I remember sitting on his lap and him reading to me or playing catch in the meadow near our house in NE Minneapolis. He only had an 8th grade education in a one room school but was very well read on a number of subjects. Said I'd have to go to the U (of MN) since it was just 3 miles away and it was the only school he could afford. Weel, all he had to provide was room and board for 3 years until I got married since I had scholarships all the way through. We probably got closer when we batched it since my mother died halfway through my sophomore year. We had some heated discussions but one time, over doing the dishes, I said, Dad, do you realize we're arguing toward the middle, and he agreed. He survived two 29 year marriages (both my mother and my stepmother were great) and died peacefully in his easy chair, reading the Bible. He and my mother helped make me the person I am.
I may not have written a book on my Dad but on request of my 19 year old grandson I did write a memoir of several pages
My Dad was like you! He told the best stories and had a great sense of humor! He also ran a tight ship with the rules of the house! One rule was that there was no use of the phone during dinner. Dinner began at 6:00pm, and he would say grace. One night just as he rose to say grace, the phone rang. He grabbed the phone and said "O, Lord, for what we are about to receive...". He realized he was speaking into the phone! Like you ,he loved and respected our Mother and we were always to rise when she walked into the room.and to thank her for the meat loaf and Jello salad. Amen
Vanity is useless for a man of any age, it just takes us quite a while to realize it.
I was so impressed by your openness about your failures as a father! And the following praise for the mother who nurtured and raised your child (children?) so beautifully alone. That is exactly how it was in my childhood, and in the home my husband and I made for our own children. But, Garrison, none of us knew any better, back in those days. Being an octogenarian also, I know these things for sure. But, no guilt. We are still married and our kids love us!
And we all love your work and your humor…..wise and helpful.
Your father sounds somewhat life mine. My father loved the garden and his cows. So, if he was not at work, he was in the garden or the pasture.
My Dad read little other than the local newspaper. Most of what he knew was picked up from his personal observation. But it was amazing the things which he had picked up in observing the garden, the weather, pasture, etc. He knew when and how to do everything because of what he had tried in the past and what had worked.
He spent most of his life doing things that he liked to do and the things he did were mostly worthwhile things to do. Things to help and provide for his family.
My Dad and I were completely different people in our likes and interests. But like him I try to spend my time doing worthwhile things which I hope will be things which I like to do.
A few nights ago, we watched reruns of Ken Burn's series on Country Music. They mentioned the move from the Ryman Auditorium to Opryland in 1974 and showed a picture of a young writer from the New Yorker.
Your planned show at the Ryman on July 10 will be what -- maybe your 4th or 5th or 6th trip there?
At any rate, I hope that it will be a tremendous success. There are always critics and naysayers. But success is the best revenge.
Maybe you should not have retired from PHC. You seem to have an innate talent for doing the show. Just walk out on stage and start talking.
Best wishes to one and all.
When I look back on my life, I think that I was about 60 years old before I knew what was going on. A lot of what happened to me (including many good things) were things which I had not planned. Several people helped me with unexpected advice and recommendations.
So I don't want to be too critical of my Dad and other relatives. Given the situation they probably did the best that they could. I don't know that I could have done better if I had been in their situations.
Well, fair enough, Garrison, but I have to say that in my case most of my enduring values worth keeping came from...my Dad. After Sunday dinners at Mom and Dad's I'd have to patiently explain to my (then young) kids that "Granny is a bit racists and we don't use words like... (fill in the blanks). She was a casual racist, if there is such a thing. Generous and a very strong church woman, but racist nonetheless. My Dad, on the other hand, did not go to church (wasn't even of the same religion as Mom and us kids) - his religion was organized labour and, on sober reflection, I have to think that his belief did more for the world than Mom's.