Dads

Yes, my cage is now in my garage. Unassembled, that's the next challenge I face, but nothing that can't be met with some muscle and a trip to the hardware store. And hopefully I'll be sticking men in it in the very near future.

And I finally met Phillip the Cage Guy in Providence. And what a great guy he is. Quite the evil genius. He does such amazing work. Soon, he'll be working on a sphere shaped cage that opens and closes like a clam shell, and can be suspended from the ceiling. (Schwing!) And... and... he's got these amazing doors from an actual cell that are just amazing. Unfortunately, they're made to be set into concrete walls. But God bless the man who is able to put it to use.

But anyway, this roadtrip was truly a journey.

The cargo van we rented was courtesy of UnFortunate's father. UnFortunate's mother passed away about the same time as my stepmother. UnFortunate's father has had a woman come into his life, and they've decided to get married. And here, as they say, UnFortunate's troubles begin. The Stepmother-to-be is cut from different cloth than Mother. Mother was an amazing cook. Stepmother-to-be is challenged by frozen dinners. Mother kept kosher, and found in her faith a source of vitality and love of life. Stepmother-to-be doesn't see the point. And on and on. And UnFortunate's growing up recollections include several trips the whole family took cross country in a camper, driving down to Mexico City, across Canada, and wherever else they could.

Not that Stepmother-to-be is a slouch. She's an accomplished academic who flies all over the world giving seminars for the World Bank. But she definitely has Issues.

So what's up with Dad?

He tells UnFortunate that he wants to marry Stepmother-to-be, but always with the coda, "although she'll never take the place of your mother."

UnFortunate needed to make this trip because Stepmother-to-be decided she'd be moving in to the UnFortunate family home, and to make room for her stuff, everything had to go. So UnFortunate wanted to salvage what he could of his personal history as embodied in in furniture and bric-a-brac before it ended up in the town dump.

UnFortunate, needless to say, is taking all this pretty hard. He took the bus out to Doylestown, we rented the cargo van, and headed north.

UnFortunate's father was waiting for us when we got in, with dinner.

UnFortunate's father had thoughtfully made us dinner.

Gosh.

He's roughly my dad's age. He's vital, engaged, and active. When he retired, he decided that he would learn one new thing every year. This has included bicycling, kayaking, rock climbing, and a language or two. He has back problems, spinal stenosis, like my father, but has worked hard at physical therapy and is still able to do so much. (This year's "Thing To Learn" was pilates.)

Okay.

So I couldn't help indulging myself in comparison. My Dad up against UnFortunate's dad. And that quickly devolved into some 'if only's.' In the Great Dad Lottery, UnFortunate lucked out. Going through the family memorabilia, we came across a black and white picture of UnFortunate's dad. He had been a labor organizer in his youth. The shot was amazing. It was taken from above, like from a balcony. UnFortunate's dad, nattily dressed in a trim late '40s suit, is pointing accusingly upwards, like at someone next to the photographer. His face a picture of righteous indignation. It was beautiful.

While UnFortunate rummaged, I talked to dad. And enjoyed it. And got a little more steamed at my own father with every passing minute.

But I was missing it. It was going right by me.

Dad would say some little thing, and UnFortunate would just crumble... "But Dad! How can you say that?" Just like that, he was back to being twelve years old, and why can't he ride his bike over to Glen's house?

Dads are from Plato's realm of Ideal Forms, huh? They might have various attributes. Some Dads are remote. Some Dads are engaged. Some Dads are boneheads. Some Dads are thoughtful. Some Dads are playful. Some Dads are serious.

But Dads are Dads. No matter who's your Daddy, he has his shortcomings. Because he's just a guy. Just a guy. And those shortcomings--the obstinancy, the rigidity, the wishy-washiness, whatever--just make you nuts, blinding you to everything he has to offer.

But so it goes. The riddle none of us can solve. Dad is Dad.

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