06/29/2006
Denver Dad Guest Post
Well here it is - round two of those that have come to help keep my blog active while I am focused elsewhere. This next blog is from another new daddy-blogger, and one of my favorites. Thank You Denver Dad for taking the time to put together a post. So, Ladies and Gents - Denver Dad:
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"Look at all the horses," my father would say, as we rocketed passed yet another indistinguishable pasture or field at sixty-five miles per hour. All of us, my sisters, my mom, and myself would all look up and see a herd of cows, staring blankly back at us.
"Those are cows!" my younger sister would argue. At the time, she was too young to understand that this was one of my father's favorite games. And, despite having heard it a hundred times or more, the rest of us would smile, before burying our heads back in our books or pillows as we continued on our annual, summer car trip, hostages to my father's fear of flying.
I didn't really start thinking about the cows and the horses until recently, when my son started understanding that there were differences. Ask him what sound a bear makes and he'll roar. Ask him what a puppy says and he'll bark. Ask him what a kangaroo says and he'll just make a bouncing motion, because not really knowing what kangaroos say to each other in the outback, it was the best that we could do.
In another year, as my family takes car trips of our own, will I start pointing out cows and call them horses? I know it'll be tempting. Why is that? Why would I follow my own father's corny example and confuse my child like that? Isn't fatherhood unique? A series of challenges and experiences shared only by a father and his child? Or, is fatherhood universal, a shared experience that we all understand even if our stories and lessons and satisfactions are all specific to just one father and his one child?
Pickle's Papa was kind enough to invite me to provide a guest post while he's off trying to prove that he paid attention in all of his classes over the years. It's a real honor, as I find Papa's blog both a thought provoking and entertaining read, even if we do clash on the whole issue of men feeling comfortable to exfoliate when needed.
Not having provided a guest post to another blog before, I was a little stumped on what I was supposed to write about. I mean, I don't even know Pickle. I'm sure she's sweet and adorable and drools in a way that makes her even more adorable, rather than less, but on a blog about being the dad of a little girl, what could I offer?
This was an excruciating question. As I said, it was an honor to be asked to provide a post, so I didn't want to just phone it in. I needed to write something profound, something worthy of the privilege of being a guest blogger. And, do you know what I came up with? Nothing. Sorry, Pickle's Papa, I'm going to have to disappoint you and your readers.
The thing is, being a dad, whether you're dad to a little girl or a little boy, is relatively simple. You want what's best for your child. That's it. You want to protect and guide and trust your child at every instance when that protection and guidance and trust is needed. It doesn't matter if you're a dad in Ohio or a dad in Colorado, the challenges and rewards and fears and joys are all the same. Fatherhood is universal, as common as DNA, and every bit as mysterious, even when the mechanics of it all add up to the same basic traits.
I think that's why this "daddy blogging" and "mommy blogging" thing works. It's like a support group, vast and haphazard and disorganized, but still vital. We read each other's posts, nodding our heads with each new sentence, occasionally dropping in a line or two of advice or sympathy. "Yes, I know just how difficult teething is" or "My child doesn't sleep through the night either" or "Holy crap! Pickle totally checked you out?!? Dude!!!"
I think a lot of us parent bloggers are posting to vent. I think many more are posting just to share. And, still others are posting to be understood. It's an amazing leap of faith to post stories about your deepest fears and most fragile joys, so much so that I'm amazed it happens at all. But, the pay off is there. When someone sends you a message about how they understand your situation, maybe offers some advice, or maybe just passed on an amusing story, you feel the community that is around you.
That's why I'm here. Pickle's Papa asked if I would help out and I couldn't turn him down. I suspect that if the same thing happened, and I was asking him for help, he'd step up with a funny, slightly left of center post for my blog. It's what you do in a community, even if it is just a community of words.
We live in an interesting time. No other generation of fathers have been able to interact like this, across such distances, at such blinding speeds. We're all standing at the perfect intersection of technology and social change. I might not ever meet Pickle's Papa, shake his hand, and offer to buy him a beer, but I suppose it's possible. It's also possible that some time in the future Pickle will run into Chunk and they'll have a long, drawn out conversation about the foolish things their father's did to them. The great thing about the internet is that ours is the first generation of parents that can plan for that meeting. The "people in the midwest" and the "people in the Rockies" aren't abstract any more. They're real, because even as imprecise and inaccurate as the internet can sometimes be, we've meet them and learned from them and understood the universal experiences we are all sharing. I know I'm naive, but I think that makes us better people and better parents. And, if we're lucky, it will make for better children.
Thanks for letting me pollute your blog with my rambling, Pickle's Papa. I appreciate it.
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06/21/2006
Pickle's Gamma Guest Post
For those of you who dont know - I am in the process of finishing a graduate degree and am going to be in the library for the next week or so, and have asked some folks to have fun - and keep my blog active while I am in absentia. The first of these is my mother. So without further ado -
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Pickle's Gamma
I was born in 1949 and when I was about 4 or 5 yrs. Old, my dad was out of work for a while (for reasons not important to the story) (added by Pickle's Papa - he had a contract out on his life). So, Pickles Great Grandpapa was a trendsetter SAHD! I’m sure that there were more than a few raised eyebrows when daddy and I went to the grocery store together in the middle of the day. I bet the neighbors had a lot to say when little Susie down the street’s father was left in charge of her and the house while her mom went out and earned a living! You know, I was pretty young, so I don’t know what went on with the adults, but from my point of view, it was great!
You see my mom was a clean freak (dad wasn’t) so when my dad was on duty, he had time for play. We had a swimming pool, and a swing set and a lot of other cool toys (did I mention I was an only child?). All the kids would come over and we would have a 40 (give or take) year old kid to play with...and he was an entertainer! He could make Lincoln cry (a penny); he could tie a Camel cigarette (non-filter) into a knot, untie it and smoke it...no holes...honest! He ate ants and he told jokes, he kept a lot of the “bullies” in the neighborhood out of trouble by planting a garden and then putting them in charge of keeping the “bullies” out of it. (He gave a lot of the food to them too ). It seemed they were really the poor ones (this is inner-city Detroit).
He cooked and baked too. I remember a cookie he made one time that you dipped one end in chocolate and the other in coconut that was really great! I’m sure he didn't score any points with my mom and the other moms too when he said “If you can read, you can cook!” He made spagetti, but of course, his mom’s maiden name was Francesca CeeCee...so he knew how it was suppose to be done. The more stuff there was to chop up and put into something the happier he was. Truth be told he was a better cook than my mom.
One of the fun things I remember from that time was when we had a big snow storm. We lived on a dead end street and had an alley (almost no one knows what those are now) behind our house. He tied my cousins’ and other neighbors’ sleds to the bumper of the car and took us for a sled ride down the street and through the alley and back down the street. There must have been about 10 sleds and the reason I know that it had to have happened at that time is that if my mom had been home she would never have let me on a sled!
I do remember another day that dad and I were down in the basement working in the woodshop (don’t tell Pickle’s Grandpa, he still thinks I know nothing about tools or how they work and I plan on keeping it that way) when little Johnny and Johnny’s mom appeared outside the basement window and Johnny’s mom said “Now, Uncle Jimmy (my dad) will watch you while mommy goes to the beauty shop and I will be back soon!” She then opened the gate to the back yard and let little Johnny go in to play. So while he may have been a subject of fodder at times at least one of the neighbors trusted her child with him besides my mom!
Pickle’s Papa only had about 3 years to get to know my dad before the smoking and drinking got the best of him and he died at age 63, but dad and I had a very special relationship and I am sure a lot of it was because of the time we were afforded when I was very young. I appreciate that to this day.
I’m sure that people may have had a lot of negative things to say about him at that time, but he was about the most ‘manly man’ I ever knew. I don’t even know if there were homosexuals back then (that’s a joke). He just loved me and took care of me the best he could at the time.
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Thanks Mom - PP
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