As I write this, my father is returning to Minneapolis - my birth place, where I grew up, and the place that I still feel is my true home. He is moving back there after spending a few years here in Indiana near me. At the age of 79, he is moving back to be closer to my brother and friends that he has left there. Although in some ways I am sad to have him go, it is time.
My father was born in 1930 in a small town in Northern Italy. He came to this country in his 20's and is definitely "old school". He, like everyone, is a product of where he grew up, and although he tries to be open-minded and liberal, he is also very stuck in his not-so-open-minded and really hurtful ways as well...and he is incredibly lacking in self-awareness. It can be really painful to be his daughter. I was reminded of this just 2 days ago when I was helping him get ready to move and he managed to essentially put blame on me for something really awful that happened to me when I was 15... at the hands of a 26 year-old man who was the son of some of his friends in Italy. His words and his complete lack of understanding at what he was saying were a bit of a punctuation mark on our relationship.
I envy girls who have fathers - or dads - who are strong and loving. My father... well, he is who he is. I love him, and I forgive him for not being stronger and more loving, but it is really sad to hear the words that come out of his mouth sometimes. It breaks my heart to see a man so lacking in self-awareness and caring for his own children. It is a challenge for me to not give in to anger or pity. It is one of my great struggles in this life.
I have joked about getting rid of my father - of sending him back to Minnesota, and being glad to get rid of him. But it isn't that simple. He is a part of me and coming to terms with who he is and what I have learned from him, and what my children have learned.... well, we will continue to learn. He is a fascinating man who can be fun and charismatic. He is a man of extremes; a child of the depression and World War II, who crossed the ocean in search of a better life, learned a new language, and professes to care deeply about the less fortunate....and yet he rails about people and things in ways that are truly contradictory to those supposed convictions. He finds inordinate pleasure in really simple things, and becomes irrationally angry at others. He is certainly confusing and contradictory and ... human. :)
I have wanted to write about my father for quite some time. It is difficult. On the one hand, these are private thoughts, but there is also a certain power in sharing. My father can say (and has said) some really awful things, and it has raised the question in my mind about the power in words. He is, and has been, absolutely verbally abusive...but very rarely has it escalated into physical actions. He blows a lot of hot air. I have to admit that he uses what he has, and what he has is not a large physical presence. Sadly it has led me to really be wary of other little guys ("men" of smaller stature), and more sadly I have been right about quite a few of them (incidentally I have also had my issues with larger men too so it is not just about size...).
There is absolutely power in words...and yet I want to believe that we can control their lasting effects. I am continually learning lessons from the past and the present, and hopefully rewriting my future.
Returning. I titled this post "Returning" because not only is my father returning to MN, but I am returning to my own life in some ways. I recently had a pretty bad case of the flu that really knocked me out, and before that I was busy trying to find my footing on this next chapter in my life. I've taken some detours and I believe that I am returning to my self. I am always learning.
Catch you later -
jc
