So Father's Day was this last Sunday. Now, Harv is a father; Cal is a father; Harv has a step-father. End of my thinking about the subject. Wait...I had a father too. No, I didn't. There was a person who
lived in the same house I did growing up. He was an adult male. He was a bastard. He was a harsh, mean, egotistical, cheating, controlling, sadistic asshole. And that's the good stuff. I can feel my blood pressure rising just thinking about him. He made my growing up years a pure hell. When he would enter the house, you could feel the tension descend like a thick fog. Your safest bet was to hide out in your room. Out of sight, out of mind hopefully.
I never considered him Dad. That's how my mother would refer to him: "Your Dad...". But he never
interacted with me in a positive way. He never considered me anything but slave labor and someone he could push around and snarl at. I was always envious of my cousins who had nice dads. Dads who would speak kindly to them and take an interest in them.
He colored my thinking about men. They say girls marry men just like their fathers. I sure didn't want
to marry anyone like him. I went the exact opposite way, thank God.
Because of him, I planned from the age of 11 how to get the hell out of that house as quickly as possible. Because of him, I didn't go to college; but took every secretarial class in school I could. That way I could get a job as soon as I graduated; and escape. Which is what I did.
After my mother died, I never had to deal with him again. And I didn't.
So it was 2 days after the holiday that I actually spared him a thought. And it was accidental because
I had been reading about other people's fathers. I only think of my father with a deep, dark hate.
So, Father's Day - not so much for me.