Lessons I Learned From My Father
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Lessons I Learned From My Father
okcsuzq Admin Mon Mar 08, 2021 8:18 pm
Lessons I’ve Learned From My Father
It seems like such a very long time ago; well, actually it was. I guess 60 odd years is a long time, at least in the context of a person’s life. Most of the early lessons I was taught were from my father, as it is with most children. The very first lesson I learned from him was that ‘men don’t have the time or desire to deal with a little girl’. And that it did not matter how ‘good’ you were the actions or reactions were still the same: the back of a hand swung with a good deal of force behind it.
The next was that you never get within touching distance of a guitar, amplifier, or any other paraphernalia that belonged to him. And quite honestly, everything belonged to him because he was the ‘bread winner’. Now looking at the situation with grown up eyes I would say that if you did not want a child, under the age of 7, to mess with anything that was important, then you would or should put it where they could not be tempted. Children will be children, that is what they are and something so pretty and interesting is only made more so by the forbidden element. The simple fact that I was not born with a great deal of grace did not help matters much either.
Another lesson that came before the age of 7 was that you never scream around your father. It does not matter how scared you are you just do not do it. Even if he is barreling down a mountainside at breakneck speed, while racing with his brothers-in-law on a two-lane road that does not even have safety rails, you still keep your mouth shut. You can crawl onto the floor of the back seat and quietly cry until you know that you are safe again, praying that you would be safe, and that no one involved would die. At least you will not get hit for that, but you will be made fun of. Unto this day I cannot drive/ride on a road that is in the mountains unless the road is a major highway; and I am still terrified of heights. I wonder if this is the reason that I cannot scream even now?
Among these wonderful discoveries there is, of course, another that needs adding to the list. When you are in the car, standing up close to the center of the front seat, and daddy is singing along with the radio, do not under any circumstances start singing to the music with him. There never is a warning, just the back of his hand popped in your face. I guess that this is where I should mention that as far as he was concerned, I could not sing a lick, mainly because at the ripe old age of 7 I had not learned to harmonize. I think that I should also mention that he is/was a Country/Western entertainer. He never made it big, but he has always had a very large group of followers no matter where he played. Like any young kid would feel about their father, I loved his voice, it really was beautiful. I feel that he made the mistake of learning to imitate whoever made a song big, instead of using his own voice. He also never played anything original; it was always another’s material. I honestly think that if he could have changed those two mistakes, he would have had a chance at being more than just a local celebrity. Do not get me wrong, he has been able to make a decent living at playing, at least enough to take care of himself and a few others when need be. He is in his eighties now, and it has been over thirty years since I last had any contact with him…my choice.
Another lesson that my father taught me was when you are told by your mom to go wake daddy and tell him breakfast is ready, you do not try to wake him by patting his face. You know the scene in the movies where someone is trying to wake another (reason does not matter) and they pat that person’s face; then the other person comes to? Well, you should never try doing that to a sleeping father. Even though you are very little, and you were not using any force, it is not a good idea. Because it will not take a long time before you are sliding down the wall to the floor from being backhanded into that wall…
Lesson learned!
Over the years it has really bothered me that I cannot think of a pleasant memory that has him in it. Not even one where he was playing with one of my siblings or myself. I do not remember any joy or laughter where he was involved. I do not remember him holding any of us. I cannot remember him asking me anything about school or praising me for anything that I had done. Maybe this is why when I do think about that time, it is only negative thoughts that I remember. Apparently, there were not any others.
I do not have any pictures of him with my mother, siblings and myself that he isn’t standing at least a space from us. I am the keeper of the pictures of our family so if anyone had them it should have been me.
I think the one lesson that has had the most impact on me was that “men leave without any explanation”. You wake up one morning, and they are simply gone. No one tells you why, or if they will be back. No one explains that sometimes things do not work out between people and even if they love you, they still must leave. No one tries to explain that people make mistakes and in order to justify that mistake (and legitimize the consequences) they move on to another person and make another family. What happens to the first family is not important because this new one is really what they wanted. It had to have been at least a week before anyone took me aside and tried to explain to me what had happened. Strange thing about that is it was not anyone from my family that finally talked to me. It was the man whose wife he ran off with. I really liked this man; he was very nice and apparently he liked kids.
Back in the 1950’s young married people used to gather in groups on Friday or Saturday night and had ‘cocktail parties’. There would be drinking, dancing and ‘what have you’; Lord only knows, I sure did not, I was just a young kid. Between the nights of these parties and going to the places where my father played (entertained), there must have been plenty of time to get into trouble. Of course the fact that my mother was the one who took care of all the children while the others partied, may have made some things so much easier. ‘C’est la vie’
As I grew older the experiences that involved my father were few and far between. The last one before I became an adult was at the age of 15. I had gotten into a fight with my mom and was so upset that I told her I wanted to go and live with my father. Amazingly he happened to be in Oklahoma at that time and was able to be reached through his mother. That is exactly what was done, too. My mother called his, told her to tell him to come to our house (no getting out of it, he had to come). Within a short time he came. We went into my bedroom to talk about it. He told me (very quickly) that I could not come and live with him. Reason, he would have me knocked up against the wall in less than 5 minutes. I was too spoiled to live with him, but my sister could go if that is what she wanted. It did not matter what he said after that to try and smooth things over; he had said enough with saying that I was spoiled but my sister could go with him.
I knew that she would not go, but that was not the point. He had made a judgment about me that had no bases in fact. I was spoiled in the sense that I had been acting as an adult since the divorce and felt that if I had all the responsibilities of an adult, then I should have the privileges also, or at the very least a few of them. He made his decision without even knowing me. He also made no attempt to get to know me or to try and find out what was going on. In truth, I did not want to go with him. I just wanted my mother to wake up and see what she was doing. That the way she was treating me was not consistent with all that she expected (and got) from me. I love/loved my mother dearly, but she could lose sight of the situation at times.
While in therapy (oh yes! I went down that road for a long time, and more than once), I learned that my faith (or lack of it) in men had been constructed by the fact that through out my life, the men in my life, have always just left me. From my grandfather to my first husband, it is the way men have appeared in my life…as a temporary fixture. My mother married (and had long term relationships) quite a few times, still the important ones left without explanation. Funny but the only man that I left was my first husband, but before I divorced him, he had already left me (emotionally) for quite some time. So even then there was a walking out, and his explanation was less than what I got when my dad left.
Even though I remarried a couple of years after that divorce, I still did not really trust men. My husband has had a very hard road to travel trying to make me see that not every man walks away, that there are some that actually want to be married and have a family and that true love has nothing to do with appearances. It actually took about 25 years before I let my guard down.
I like men, I always have, but still, you need to have trust in a relationship. Trust and faith seem to go hand in hand in my eyes. You cannot have faith in something or someone that you do not trust. This may be why it hurts me so much more that my oldest son has chosen to walk away from me (more than the normal pulling away that all children do). I know what happened, but I do not understand the ease with which he has chosen to no longer be a part of my life. In my eyes there is not a reason justifiable for never having contact with your own mother. I am a stubborn person, but when my children really want to, they have always been able to turn the tables and make me relent. The real hurt comes from knowing that he does not want things to be all right between us. As long as there is a riff between us, he doesn’t have to feel guilty about not caring about me. He does not have to feel that he is betraying his father in some way. The thing is, I have other children and other grandchildren; but he only has one mother and whose to say how much longer I will be around.
Love can only go so far, and then it will give up, if for no other reason than self-preservation. It is not a pleasant fact; it is just the way it is. I really think that the lessons I learned from him are why I appear to be strong, cold, and able to deal with anything. It is only a veneer, cultivated to appear so for others peace of mind.
Sometimes I wish that I could remember every single moment of my childhood. Then maybe, just maybe it would help me to understand all that I need to understand. Still, no matter what other people try to tell them, children know when they are not loved. Sometimes it just takes a lifetime to figure it all out and accept the end calculation.
Susan Palmer-Davis
3/8/2021
All Rights Reserved
Do not copy or print without
my permission
It seems like such a very long time ago; well, actually it was. I guess 60 odd years is a long time, at least in the context of a person’s life. Most of the early lessons I was taught were from my father, as it is with most children. The very first lesson I learned from him was that ‘men don’t have the time or desire to deal with a little girl’. And that it did not matter how ‘good’ you were the actions or reactions were still the same: the back of a hand swung with a good deal of force behind it.
The next was that you never get within touching distance of a guitar, amplifier, or any other paraphernalia that belonged to him. And quite honestly, everything belonged to him because he was the ‘bread winner’. Now looking at the situation with grown up eyes I would say that if you did not want a child, under the age of 7, to mess with anything that was important, then you would or should put it where they could not be tempted. Children will be children, that is what they are and something so pretty and interesting is only made more so by the forbidden element. The simple fact that I was not born with a great deal of grace did not help matters much either.
Another lesson that came before the age of 7 was that you never scream around your father. It does not matter how scared you are you just do not do it. Even if he is barreling down a mountainside at breakneck speed, while racing with his brothers-in-law on a two-lane road that does not even have safety rails, you still keep your mouth shut. You can crawl onto the floor of the back seat and quietly cry until you know that you are safe again, praying that you would be safe, and that no one involved would die. At least you will not get hit for that, but you will be made fun of. Unto this day I cannot drive/ride on a road that is in the mountains unless the road is a major highway; and I am still terrified of heights. I wonder if this is the reason that I cannot scream even now?
Among these wonderful discoveries there is, of course, another that needs adding to the list. When you are in the car, standing up close to the center of the front seat, and daddy is singing along with the radio, do not under any circumstances start singing to the music with him. There never is a warning, just the back of his hand popped in your face. I guess that this is where I should mention that as far as he was concerned, I could not sing a lick, mainly because at the ripe old age of 7 I had not learned to harmonize. I think that I should also mention that he is/was a Country/Western entertainer. He never made it big, but he has always had a very large group of followers no matter where he played. Like any young kid would feel about their father, I loved his voice, it really was beautiful. I feel that he made the mistake of learning to imitate whoever made a song big, instead of using his own voice. He also never played anything original; it was always another’s material. I honestly think that if he could have changed those two mistakes, he would have had a chance at being more than just a local celebrity. Do not get me wrong, he has been able to make a decent living at playing, at least enough to take care of himself and a few others when need be. He is in his eighties now, and it has been over thirty years since I last had any contact with him…my choice.
Another lesson that my father taught me was when you are told by your mom to go wake daddy and tell him breakfast is ready, you do not try to wake him by patting his face. You know the scene in the movies where someone is trying to wake another (reason does not matter) and they pat that person’s face; then the other person comes to? Well, you should never try doing that to a sleeping father. Even though you are very little, and you were not using any force, it is not a good idea. Because it will not take a long time before you are sliding down the wall to the floor from being backhanded into that wall…
Lesson learned!
Over the years it has really bothered me that I cannot think of a pleasant memory that has him in it. Not even one where he was playing with one of my siblings or myself. I do not remember any joy or laughter where he was involved. I do not remember him holding any of us. I cannot remember him asking me anything about school or praising me for anything that I had done. Maybe this is why when I do think about that time, it is only negative thoughts that I remember. Apparently, there were not any others.
I do not have any pictures of him with my mother, siblings and myself that he isn’t standing at least a space from us. I am the keeper of the pictures of our family so if anyone had them it should have been me.
I think the one lesson that has had the most impact on me was that “men leave without any explanation”. You wake up one morning, and they are simply gone. No one tells you why, or if they will be back. No one explains that sometimes things do not work out between people and even if they love you, they still must leave. No one tries to explain that people make mistakes and in order to justify that mistake (and legitimize the consequences) they move on to another person and make another family. What happens to the first family is not important because this new one is really what they wanted. It had to have been at least a week before anyone took me aside and tried to explain to me what had happened. Strange thing about that is it was not anyone from my family that finally talked to me. It was the man whose wife he ran off with. I really liked this man; he was very nice and apparently he liked kids.
Back in the 1950’s young married people used to gather in groups on Friday or Saturday night and had ‘cocktail parties’. There would be drinking, dancing and ‘what have you’; Lord only knows, I sure did not, I was just a young kid. Between the nights of these parties and going to the places where my father played (entertained), there must have been plenty of time to get into trouble. Of course the fact that my mother was the one who took care of all the children while the others partied, may have made some things so much easier. ‘C’est la vie’
As I grew older the experiences that involved my father were few and far between. The last one before I became an adult was at the age of 15. I had gotten into a fight with my mom and was so upset that I told her I wanted to go and live with my father. Amazingly he happened to be in Oklahoma at that time and was able to be reached through his mother. That is exactly what was done, too. My mother called his, told her to tell him to come to our house (no getting out of it, he had to come). Within a short time he came. We went into my bedroom to talk about it. He told me (very quickly) that I could not come and live with him. Reason, he would have me knocked up against the wall in less than 5 minutes. I was too spoiled to live with him, but my sister could go if that is what she wanted. It did not matter what he said after that to try and smooth things over; he had said enough with saying that I was spoiled but my sister could go with him.
I knew that she would not go, but that was not the point. He had made a judgment about me that had no bases in fact. I was spoiled in the sense that I had been acting as an adult since the divorce and felt that if I had all the responsibilities of an adult, then I should have the privileges also, or at the very least a few of them. He made his decision without even knowing me. He also made no attempt to get to know me or to try and find out what was going on. In truth, I did not want to go with him. I just wanted my mother to wake up and see what she was doing. That the way she was treating me was not consistent with all that she expected (and got) from me. I love/loved my mother dearly, but she could lose sight of the situation at times.
While in therapy (oh yes! I went down that road for a long time, and more than once), I learned that my faith (or lack of it) in men had been constructed by the fact that through out my life, the men in my life, have always just left me. From my grandfather to my first husband, it is the way men have appeared in my life…as a temporary fixture. My mother married (and had long term relationships) quite a few times, still the important ones left without explanation. Funny but the only man that I left was my first husband, but before I divorced him, he had already left me (emotionally) for quite some time. So even then there was a walking out, and his explanation was less than what I got when my dad left.
Even though I remarried a couple of years after that divorce, I still did not really trust men. My husband has had a very hard road to travel trying to make me see that not every man walks away, that there are some that actually want to be married and have a family and that true love has nothing to do with appearances. It actually took about 25 years before I let my guard down.
I like men, I always have, but still, you need to have trust in a relationship. Trust and faith seem to go hand in hand in my eyes. You cannot have faith in something or someone that you do not trust. This may be why it hurts me so much more that my oldest son has chosen to walk away from me (more than the normal pulling away that all children do). I know what happened, but I do not understand the ease with which he has chosen to no longer be a part of my life. In my eyes there is not a reason justifiable for never having contact with your own mother. I am a stubborn person, but when my children really want to, they have always been able to turn the tables and make me relent. The real hurt comes from knowing that he does not want things to be all right between us. As long as there is a riff between us, he doesn’t have to feel guilty about not caring about me. He does not have to feel that he is betraying his father in some way. The thing is, I have other children and other grandchildren; but he only has one mother and whose to say how much longer I will be around.
Love can only go so far, and then it will give up, if for no other reason than self-preservation. It is not a pleasant fact; it is just the way it is. I really think that the lessons I learned from him are why I appear to be strong, cold, and able to deal with anything. It is only a veneer, cultivated to appear so for others peace of mind.
Sometimes I wish that I could remember every single moment of my childhood. Then maybe, just maybe it would help me to understand all that I need to understand. Still, no matter what other people try to tell them, children know when they are not loved. Sometimes it just takes a lifetime to figure it all out and accept the end calculation.
Susan Palmer-Davis
3/8/2021
All Rights Reserved
Do not copy or print without
my permission
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