Sunday, July 03, 2005
Dear Dad:
Thank you for the birthday card. It arrived at the house recently. I couldn't read the date on the postage cancellation, but judging by the neat handwriting of your wife, it was sent early enough to be certain that it would arrive on time.
You wrote "I hope your life is going ok" as the only note inside the card. Well, dad it's just peachy. What I am awake at almost three in the morning wondering, is why you are going to the trouble to ask that? You've made it quite plain to me that you really do not care too much for me.
Here's where I get caught in the crossfire, dad: If I go to you and attempt to re-kindle any sort of relationship, you'll wonder if I was doing that in order to get some of the crumbs from the feast you serve others. If I do not go to you, you'll decide that I was only interested in you for money to begin with. Either way, I'm a greedy little boy who didn't get his way. Either way, I'll be punished. Either way, I come out in the wrong. As has always been the case in our relationship, facts have little bearing on this conversation.
I'd wonder how you've been, but you continue to send postcards to my children from all the places around the world that you'll never offer to take them. You broke a promise to us, and you mock us with it. I don't believe for a minute that you can understand that this is what you do, but there it is. "Your children can't have this money for education. I'm going to spend it on taking friends around the world on vacations." Do you see that? No, probably not.
So, what then of our family legacy? I'm the namesake. I get the feeling that I'm being punished for that, too, somehow. You are so unwilling to share of what our family was. You want to hoard it all to yourself. We'll never see those special treasures that belonged to your grandfather. You'll donate them to the IMS Museum, because you believe us to be unworthy, while you break promises and fritter away the work of a great man.
So. Why haven't I come crawling back for more, this time? I admit, I do miss some of the nice things you used to lavish on us. Expensive trips, gifts, shopping sprees, dinners, vacations. Those were nice. They always came with a price, though. Absolute loyalty to the cause. I decided that singing the party line was being untrue to myself, and I decided to quit playing the game. It's going to cost me millions, isn't it? Money is your only coin, and a man who wants to show a semblance of integrity makes you uncomfortable, I think. By my refusal to talk to someone who will not stand behind his own word, I make a stand that I will not accept such behavior. You'll never see it that way, though. I'm just the little boy, pouting because he didn't get his way. I know that trying to talk to you is an admission that your decisions were correct. I know that your decisions as far as the family is concerned will now only orbit around my brother. It's sad, because he doesn't really know the truth about you.
It's possible that I'm being hyper-sensitive. I always was the sensitive kid of the three. I've been praying for you, though, when I remember that I need to pray. I ask that god give you the happiness that you deserve. Are you enjoying that, yet? I don't make the assumption that I know what happiness that is, I just ask that you receive it. Sometimes, I get a little relief. It's about then that another postcard arrives from BFE, from another trip you've taken that would have provided a year of education for your grandchildren.
Do I sound bitter enough? It this the seasoning you'd hoped to provide to the stewing concoction of my life? You hope my life is going ok. It certainly is, thank you. I'm WORKING HARD and making money, and I'm going to continue to do that so that my children can have the benefit of a college education. I'm standing by promises I made, even when doing so rankles me, and I stand by those promises simply because I made them. Do you understand this? I don't believe that you can. And that difference is the vast gulf across which we stare. I, staring at you in reproach and shame for your behavior. You, staring at what you can purchase next, not even noticing the course of the lives of your own family.
How's the court proceeding that my sister has brought against you going?
I've had a chance to talk with friends who've had training in psychology, and they tell me that you're a sick person, acting out impulses with no ability to feel real remorse for the damage that you cause. It may be true that you have the conditions that they've told me about. At the end, though, you're a man who steals from and hurts his own children. You're a man to gives his word and takes it back. You're a man who mocks people for being without things that you yourself never earned. You're a base, mean, and tiny person, looking to feel bigger a minute at a time. It's a leaky balloon that you keep blowing up, though. It just sucks that you have to hurt people you're suppose to love in order for you to get the little ego-boosts you need. And that, my father, is why I do not call, write, or otherwise communicate. I know that doing so would only place myself back in your spere of influence, for you to hurt again. So, yes, the card arrived and was received by me as a barb from you, but I'm not going to step in and actually do anything in retaliation. There is not a point in so doing. I cannot win in any argument with you, as logic and facts have no bearing on the direction your mind will take. I therefore, with heavy heart and regret for the man you could have been, consign myself to the knowledge that whether I speak to you or not, you will still spend money that your grandfather would have expected you to pass along to your children, and their children in turn. You have no respect for his efforts. To quote Stephen King, "You have forgotten the face of your father."
Louie
You wrote "I hope your life is going ok" as the only note inside the card. Well, dad it's just peachy. What I am awake at almost three in the morning wondering, is why you are going to the trouble to ask that? You've made it quite plain to me that you really do not care too much for me.
Here's where I get caught in the crossfire, dad: If I go to you and attempt to re-kindle any sort of relationship, you'll wonder if I was doing that in order to get some of the crumbs from the feast you serve others. If I do not go to you, you'll decide that I was only interested in you for money to begin with. Either way, I'm a greedy little boy who didn't get his way. Either way, I'll be punished. Either way, I come out in the wrong. As has always been the case in our relationship, facts have little bearing on this conversation.
I'd wonder how you've been, but you continue to send postcards to my children from all the places around the world that you'll never offer to take them. You broke a promise to us, and you mock us with it. I don't believe for a minute that you can understand that this is what you do, but there it is. "Your children can't have this money for education. I'm going to spend it on taking friends around the world on vacations." Do you see that? No, probably not.
So, what then of our family legacy? I'm the namesake. I get the feeling that I'm being punished for that, too, somehow. You are so unwilling to share of what our family was. You want to hoard it all to yourself. We'll never see those special treasures that belonged to your grandfather. You'll donate them to the IMS Museum, because you believe us to be unworthy, while you break promises and fritter away the work of a great man.
So. Why haven't I come crawling back for more, this time? I admit, I do miss some of the nice things you used to lavish on us. Expensive trips, gifts, shopping sprees, dinners, vacations. Those were nice. They always came with a price, though. Absolute loyalty to the cause. I decided that singing the party line was being untrue to myself, and I decided to quit playing the game. It's going to cost me millions, isn't it? Money is your only coin, and a man who wants to show a semblance of integrity makes you uncomfortable, I think. By my refusal to talk to someone who will not stand behind his own word, I make a stand that I will not accept such behavior. You'll never see it that way, though. I'm just the little boy, pouting because he didn't get his way. I know that trying to talk to you is an admission that your decisions were correct. I know that your decisions as far as the family is concerned will now only orbit around my brother. It's sad, because he doesn't really know the truth about you.
It's possible that I'm being hyper-sensitive. I always was the sensitive kid of the three. I've been praying for you, though, when I remember that I need to pray. I ask that god give you the happiness that you deserve. Are you enjoying that, yet? I don't make the assumption that I know what happiness that is, I just ask that you receive it. Sometimes, I get a little relief. It's about then that another postcard arrives from BFE, from another trip you've taken that would have provided a year of education for your grandchildren.
Do I sound bitter enough? It this the seasoning you'd hoped to provide to the stewing concoction of my life? You hope my life is going ok. It certainly is, thank you. I'm WORKING HARD and making money, and I'm going to continue to do that so that my children can have the benefit of a college education. I'm standing by promises I made, even when doing so rankles me, and I stand by those promises simply because I made them. Do you understand this? I don't believe that you can. And that difference is the vast gulf across which we stare. I, staring at you in reproach and shame for your behavior. You, staring at what you can purchase next, not even noticing the course of the lives of your own family.
How's the court proceeding that my sister has brought against you going?
I've had a chance to talk with friends who've had training in psychology, and they tell me that you're a sick person, acting out impulses with no ability to feel real remorse for the damage that you cause. It may be true that you have the conditions that they've told me about. At the end, though, you're a man who steals from and hurts his own children. You're a man to gives his word and takes it back. You're a man who mocks people for being without things that you yourself never earned. You're a base, mean, and tiny person, looking to feel bigger a minute at a time. It's a leaky balloon that you keep blowing up, though. It just sucks that you have to hurt people you're suppose to love in order for you to get the little ego-boosts you need. And that, my father, is why I do not call, write, or otherwise communicate. I know that doing so would only place myself back in your spere of influence, for you to hurt again. So, yes, the card arrived and was received by me as a barb from you, but I'm not going to step in and actually do anything in retaliation. There is not a point in so doing. I cannot win in any argument with you, as logic and facts have no bearing on the direction your mind will take. I therefore, with heavy heart and regret for the man you could have been, consign myself to the knowledge that whether I speak to you or not, you will still spend money that your grandfather would have expected you to pass along to your children, and their children in turn. You have no respect for his efforts. To quote Stephen King, "You have forgotten the face of your father."
Louie
