Turning into your parentsUnable to hold back the genetic tide, I find myself gardening in my carpet slippers, asking for a knife and fork in McDonalds and agreeing with the Daily Telegraph. I'm beyond help - what about you?
Thanks to b3th for the suggestion
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Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 13:39)
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My dadMy dad came back from Viet Nam in '71 and decided that he was going to kill himself. He didn't actually succeed until '88. His liver couldn't stand having anymore gin poured on it and his lungs had had enough of the Pall Mall filterless.
He'd left my mother and me in '72. I last saw him the following year. They wouldn't let me open the coffin - his Army benefit covered a minimal embalming.
I promised my first son that I'd always be there for him. He was too young to remember and hopefully also too young to remember that his mother kicked me out (we were overseas and I was the dependant 'stay-at-home-dad') so she could the alcoholic loser she later married and divorced. When they finally returned to the US, I was there and have been there for him ever since.
I remarried - the missus, our son & daughter still live in the same house. I never had to convince myself that I wasn't going to leave them - I'm not my father.
(, Sat 2 May 2009, 2:43, Reply)
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