i've been without a father since i was about 3 years old. i can't say that i ever remember it bothering me as a little boy, but as i grew up, i did come to resent him leaving.
later in life, as with most things, i came to find that the situation was more complicated than just "daddy left you". from the information i got from my mother, i saw it was a mutual decision to split and that there were reasons why i stayed with my mother and not my father.
the story culminates after some years of turmoil in my life, in what was to be a pleasant visit by him and his latest wife.
my dad is a notorious "mountain man" and despises cities and the people that live in them. i knew that he is a right-libertarian with some ideas that i definitely do not agree with, and that he drinks a bit. but, aforehand of his last visit, i didn't know his views and actions were as bad as they actually are. he is a rather vicious right-libertarian with a nonsensical and racist world view, where everyone but he and Alex Jones (of infowars.com) are wrong. His capacity for drinking was phenomenal. this did not mix well with my rationalist mentality, and we had it out on a lot of different issues, which was refreshing at first, but then his alcoholic antics and racist attitude grew tiresome.
we had some discussions about hot topics like GMO, Autism, Marijuana Legalization, etc... and most of them we did not agree upon. he claimed that Autism was due to GMOs and vaccines, and i said that there is no evidence of that. long story short, the talk about Autism climaxed with him making "flappy-hand" gesticulations and shouting "YAAAY I GO TO DA POOL YAAAY" at me while saying that my doctor is a paid shill for the Obama administration and that a diagnosis of ASD was just going to single me out for the oncoming "Agenda 21" genocide... he claimed that if i ate organic foods, my "fake" autism would clear up and i would be a normal member of society. i was really offended by this, so i changed the subject. we entered another conversation with similar results, but this time he said some horrible things about third world countries, and had shewn to me that he didn't know what the word "eugenics" meant, even though he accused almost everyone in power of being a eugenicist.
then came the city bus rides...
in a large city, you do not go on a city bus, in a city where a really good portion of the denizens of that city are East Asian, and make fun of how they talk. he thought this was hilarious, and spoke loudly so that everyone on the bus could hear. i had to tell him not to do that in public, and he stifled it for a little while. he broke out the old racist jokebook in a predominantly Mexican neighborhood, and i finally told him to refrain from making comments like that because it offends me, his son. he grumbled and conceded and gave me the cold shoulder for the rest of the day. his wife defended him by asking me what i thought he meant by cracking jokes and making fun of other people's accents. i said that i don't know, but it is something i am highly sensitive to, and i would appreciate it if he would not do that in my presence. he grumbled again, and she rolled her eyes at me.
we went back to my apartment, and i got on my computer for a while. his wife and started giving him some kind of sound-massage treatment in my living room. i honestly had no idea what this was; my father and his wife are both huge supporters of the alternative medicine methods and modalities of thinking. after the beeping in my living room ceased, i heard him making cocktails in my kitchen. i ignored this, and after an hour of decompressing from them, and asked if they were ready for dinner. they got ready, but in the process, i don't know how much my dad had to drink.
at the restaurant, he was a terror.
i suppose i should have been more thoughtful, and not taken him to a japanese place. he was quite verbal about how he hated the food, how he hated that they didn't have liquor on the menu (beer isn't alcohol to him), and how "bad" the service was. then he said something loudly about how all japanese people smoke too much, and i lost it on him. the fight escalated to the point where we were shouting at each other on the street, him and his wife calling me crazy and telling me that i treated them like s**t the whole time, and how i wasn't worth trying to form a relationship with.
i told them both to leave.
walking up the street to my apartment, my dad and his wife walked a few paces behind me. i heard a struggle and then something being thrown into the street. i turned around and, his wife shouted "my purse", and my dad kept walking. i asked what the hell was going on, my dad shrugged and walked away. i found his wife in the street collecting her things that fell out and i asked her what did he do that for? she didn't know. i got really mad, and stopped him in the street and shouted into his face asking him about what kind of animal throws his wife's purse into the middle of the street for no reason, and telling him that civilized members of society don't act like that, and that this was domestic abuse, and i was sick of the way he treats her. she complained that it wasn't domestic abuse and that i needed to grow up.
i can't help those who don't want to help themselves.
in my apartment, i grilled him further about the purse. he said nothing. his wife mousily remarked "he thought he was getting rid of the doggy bag food, and he accidentally threw my purse". i said that i didn't believe it. that was the last thing i said to them both before they left.
i know that my dad and her will return to their home and paint a picture to my relatives of a cold and distant, overly sensitive crazy person. i don't know if i should care.
all in all; last night was rather surreal.
apart from the wildness of yesterday, the days preceding were filled with equally strange actions and stories. he told me that when i was about 5 years old, my mother called him and told him that she found another man, who looked similar to him, and that this man would give me a brother, so i wouldn't be alone. he pried and asked me what this man was like. i told him all about the abuse and alcoholism i had to endure under this man; name calling (his favorite was "Mo'" ...short for "Homo"), having a gun pulled on me by him when i was 8, and seeing/hearing him slap my mother around almost nightly, all among a list of other things... he professed to not having any knowledge of that... which i don't know if that is true or not. but he asked me to not talk to my mom about this story he told me. ...that makes me highly suspicious.
i don't know what to think. i know that i should be feeling sad, but i am not; a normal occurrence for me as i do not deal with emotions like a lot of people do. so this is a befuddling little chapter in my life, and, as always; i don't know what to think.
_________________
...
25 May 2013, 10:29 am
