Three decades of rejecting my father hasn’t worked out too well for me, so now I’m talking in psycho-therapy about the ways I admire my old man.
As I moved through my teens, I was like most boys and distanced myself from my mom. I basically stopped talking to her.
I didn’t consciously start distancing myself from my dad until I embraced Judaism in the 1990s. The Jewish thinkers I loved, such as Dennis Prager and Joseph Telushkin, seemed to have all the things I loved about my dad and all the things I sought that were opposite of him.
As I moved into my 30s, I thought I was past my mom and dad. I wanted to keep them in my life but I wasn’t interested in emulating them. Now at 46, I’m realizing how profoundly they’ve shaped me. I have this vague sense that the way I deal with people and authority and money and relationships and the like is a reflection of how I relate to my parents. Most of the ways mom and dad are present in my daily decisions is not conscious to me. I think I’m choosing freely but I ain’t. I’m living out my addictions. I’m living out my un-chosen reactions. I’m living out my rebellion.
When I run into some goy in the hallway at work, I’m liable to start dealing with him as though he’s a proxy for my dad. When I’m criticized on Facebook, I have identical emotional reactions as my mother did to criticism.
The thing I love best about my dad (and the great loves of my life) is that they are reliable. When my dad says he’ll be somewhere at 2 p.m. next Tuesday, he’ll be there. I’m the same way. I’ve been taking this writing course over the past three years and I’ve never been late. I’ve never left early. I’ve never been without my pen and paper and tape recorder. Like my dad, I’m solid. Reliable. Dependable. No drama (with certain commitments).
Another thing I love about my dad is that he’s righteous. I never saw my dad do anything wrong. He was always ethical and upright and upstanding. He was a rock. He was always someone I could admire.
I love my dad’s thirst for knowledge. He reads for hours a day. He loves to travel. He loves to learn. He loves to improve himself.
My dad has a great sense of humor. Dinner time was usually laugh time. Dad was not only a great cook, but he kept us laughing while we ate. He liked to play practical jokes on me such as hiding the dessert.
When I was sick, mom and dad would check in on me and bring me whatever I needed. They’d read to me. They’d bring me soup. They’d drive me to the doctor.
When I was trying to learn something, my father would research it and report back to me what he found out. Dad taught me at an early age how to use a library and what sources were reliable and what books were thrilling and what newspapers were balanced (he recommended the Christian Science Monitor).
The most common advice my father gave me:
* Listen more.
* Don’t argue so much.
* You can’t talk to girls the same way you talk to boys.
* Be sure your sins will find you out.
* If you spend your health to get your wealth, you’ll spend your wealth trying to get back your health.
I always took great pride in my father’s accomplishments. I liked being Des Ford’s son. I liked the way the air changed when he walked into a room. I liked the sway he held over people as he preached from the pulpit. I liked that he was a man of God and knew the way to salvation.
When you say your mom or dad are dead to you, don’t matter to you, you’re just saying they’re so huge for you that you can’t deal.
I always knew I had daddy issues. Now I’m thinking about all the ways I react and relate like my mom. Just because your dad’s a superstar doesn’t mean that he has more influence on you than your lower profile mother.
