the rix mix

"When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years."

Mark Twain

Father's Day wasn't much of a deal in my house as a kid, It probably went almost entirely unnoticed. But if we'd thought about it, the best gift simply would've been not to bug our dad for an entire Sunday. Or even better, hung out at our friends' houses for once. Our house was often the default social center for the friends & acquaintances of four siblings spread out 7 years in age from oldest to youngest. My parents took the attitude that it was better to put up with the noise & know where their kids were, because they rarely complained about it. We didn't have a landscaped yard, or plastic covering the furniture, or white wall-to-wall carpeting, the unfriendly tactics other parents used to discourage young visitors. We had a front porch, anchored swing set (later replaced by a circular pool), a twisty magnolia tree easy to climb. We still managed much mischief. Dad accumulated a museum of curious objects, culminating in a World War One merchant ship deck cannon, installed in the basement, with a four foot long barrel that could be aimed at the cellar steps - it was a jaw-dropper on first sight, & a popular by-invitation-only attraction.

Dad's taste in music ran to show tunes & marches, & he liked to read, & it was very difficult for him to clear the household sound environment for any length of time. His four kids had four contrasting musical tastes, none of which he liked. Plus, we had a spinet piano no one played well, except the rare occasions our paternal grandmother performed "I'm Looking Over A Four Leaf Clover," which I later discovered was an almost perfectly memorized sheet music arrangement with a stride-style left hand fashionable when she was a teenager. The origin & extent of her pianistic skills remained a mystery to me. She didn't impart them to Dad. Our cat also liked playing the piano, we encouraged it. Our little dog liked barking out the window at birds. It could be a noisy place.

Sometimes on a Sunday afternoon Dad would announce he was driving out to Channel Lumber for some small but essential item, perhaps a box of sheet metal screws, although he really wanted to admire the power tools. If we were bored enough, he'd find six kids trying get in the car. It was a ride. This was a dilemma for him. On one hand, he only wanted some time to himself. On the other, it was always difficult for him to resist an audience. He usually went with the audience. My friends thought him a whole lot more amusing than I did. A little dispassionate distance from Dad made all the difference in how one appreciated him. Eventually, I gained some distance. The change was just as Mark Twain put it, but it took me longer to get there.

Labels: growing up, holidays