THE FACADE
When we are young, we see our parents through the eyes of a child. Even if they are wrong, our parents are right. Our fathers are invincible heroes who can do no wrong; and our mothers are the protectors and nurturers, the one we run to for comfort and encouragement after getting pushed down in the playground. I remember clearly when I started to see my parents through the eyes of an adult. Their flaws and human frailties suddenly very apparent. It was a true turning point in my life. It was both a crushing disappointment and tremendous relief.
If you were to look at my childhood from the outside, you would think it was typically unremarkable. My dad was a seemingly successful business owner, my mother the social butterfly and happy homemaker, and my little sister was the kid you couldn't shake, but somehow didn't mind having around. We were well-respected in a community where there were few secrets. I believed it all for a long time...that we were the normal, upper middle-class, suburbanites. It was one of those things that if you say it often enough it becomes true. But after years of denial, contemplation, and handfuls of various mind-altering drugs, the reality of the cluster fuck we lived in was so obvious, I wonder how it was I hadn't seen it sooner. The truth was, my dad was a chronic philandered who did tons of drugs and whose associates were more likely to be on wanted posters than on the society page. My mom wore the nicest clothes and was dripping in jewelry, but she was nothing more than a door mat who buried her head to the realities of what was going on around her. To protect my sister's privacy, I won't go into detail about her "issues" when we were kids, but it is safe to say that she truly suffered a miserable childhood.
Now, well into their 60's, my mom and dad will tell you that they were a product of the time (the 70's and 80's), and that how they/we lived was "just how it was then". A couple of years ago, my dad apologized to my sister and me for being a "bad father". He recognized the inappropriateness of some of the things we were exposed to, and said if he had it to do again, he would have done it differently. Some may think that was a welcome comment, but it was just the opposite for me. It broke my heart to think that my father believed himself to be a bad parent. Parenting is a crapshoot. No parent says, "Ya know...I think I'm going to be the shittiest parent I can. I really want to fuck up my kids so I'm going to do everything I can to make sure they end up without moral fiber". Parents do the best they can. They make the only decisions they know how. They repeat the same mistakes their parents made, the ones they promised themselves they never would.
I have a wonderful relationship with both my mother and my father. My mom is an integral part of my life and the lives of my children. I kiss the ground she walks on and thank God for her everyday. My dad is still my hero. A little less invincible than I once thought, but still a great man. A man of character, who has taught me more about life than anyone I know. I was never one of those people who believed in the notion that everything we are today is a result of how we were raised. Scientists and sociologists have made entire careers out of studying it. Nature vs. Nurture or something like that. Yes, our parents instill in us the framework for who we are, but the decisions we make on a day-to-day basis are entirely within our own power. In a perfect world, a parent teaches a child the basics...that its wrong to steal and lie; cheating is not the way to win; be kind to babies and puppies (Ten Commandment kinda stuff).
All things considered, even with all their flaws and imperfections, I suppose my mother and father did that and more for me. I can only hope to do the same for my children.
If you were to look at my childhood from the outside, you would think it was typically unremarkable. My dad was a seemingly successful business owner, my mother the social butterfly and happy homemaker, and my little sister was the kid you couldn't shake, but somehow didn't mind having around. We were well-respected in a community where there were few secrets. I believed it all for a long time...that we were the normal, upper middle-class, suburbanites. It was one of those things that if you say it often enough it becomes true. But after years of denial, contemplation, and handfuls of various mind-altering drugs, the reality of the cluster fuck we lived in was so obvious, I wonder how it was I hadn't seen it sooner. The truth was, my dad was a chronic philandered who did tons of drugs and whose associates were more likely to be on wanted posters than on the society page. My mom wore the nicest clothes and was dripping in jewelry, but she was nothing more than a door mat who buried her head to the realities of what was going on around her. To protect my sister's privacy, I won't go into detail about her "issues" when we were kids, but it is safe to say that she truly suffered a miserable childhood.
Now, well into their 60's, my mom and dad will tell you that they were a product of the time (the 70's and 80's), and that how they/we lived was "just how it was then". A couple of years ago, my dad apologized to my sister and me for being a "bad father". He recognized the inappropriateness of some of the things we were exposed to, and said if he had it to do again, he would have done it differently. Some may think that was a welcome comment, but it was just the opposite for me. It broke my heart to think that my father believed himself to be a bad parent. Parenting is a crapshoot. No parent says, "Ya know...I think I'm going to be the shittiest parent I can. I really want to fuck up my kids so I'm going to do everything I can to make sure they end up without moral fiber". Parents do the best they can. They make the only decisions they know how. They repeat the same mistakes their parents made, the ones they promised themselves they never would.
I have a wonderful relationship with both my mother and my father. My mom is an integral part of my life and the lives of my children. I kiss the ground she walks on and thank God for her everyday. My dad is still my hero. A little less invincible than I once thought, but still a great man. A man of character, who has taught me more about life than anyone I know. I was never one of those people who believed in the notion that everything we are today is a result of how we were raised. Scientists and sociologists have made entire careers out of studying it. Nature vs. Nurture or something like that. Yes, our parents instill in us the framework for who we are, but the decisions we make on a day-to-day basis are entirely within our own power. In a perfect world, a parent teaches a child the basics...that its wrong to steal and lie; cheating is not the way to win; be kind to babies and puppies (Ten Commandment kinda stuff).
All things considered, even with all their flaws and imperfections, I suppose my mother and father did that and more for me. I can only hope to do the same for my children.
posted by Eatapeach | 4:04 PM
3 Comments:
"They repeat the same mistakes their parents made, the ones they promised themselves they never would." Guilty. I promised myself I'd never leave my son. That's the main reason I hung around longer than I should have.
Beautiful writing and so painfully true. It's interesting to ready your story - you and I are just 10 years apart in age (I'm almost 50) and yet our parents (and us) lived totally polar lives. We lived a classic 50s and 60s life - turquoise polka-dotted dresses, Jackie O. hats and all of the broken dreams and imperfections such a life has to offer.
Thank you, Elizabeth, for the compliment. And congratulations (to me) for being the first person to comment on one of my posts. Plantman doesn't count since we're friends and this whole blog thing was his idea in the first place.
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