Oh Father, Where Art Thou?

<----- Take a look at that picture. I mean, take a good look. Examine it for a few seconds. Go ahead. I've got time... Ok, good. Now that that's done, I thought I'd talk about that lady down in the bottom left. It's my mom. For those of you who have never seen her before and are a little struck by the fact that we're pretty different in color, I'll answer you first question: No, my father isn't white. He's the same complection as me, which caused me to be born looking like I was Michael Jackson -- post vitiligo outbreak. In fact, she always used to tell me how the only part of her that I got was my nose. I'd like to think I have a pretty cute nose, so I'll be more than happy to say I got that from her. All I really have to go on to know how the man who gave me my Y chromosome is my mom's word, though -- well that and a picture from when I was about 3 where he came to visit me -- because my father was a deadbeat, both by title and (lack of) action.

Now, I'm working on a little something dealing with this issue that I'm not yet comfortable revealing, but needless to say, the lack of a father has impacted me in ways I'm probably not even aware of at this moment. So every year, when Father's Day comes around, it's always a strange little feeling. I mean, there are some years when I don't even realize the day. I've never had a reason to commemorate it with anything more than the thought of what it would have been like to have a father. I wonder, but that's the extent of it.

I'm a daydreamer by trade. Those of you who know me well know that most of the dreams I have never come during my REM. They come when the sun is still up. I used to do it all the time at school growing up, then at work. I just drift into another world. In all my dreams, I've never seen what it would be like with a father. It simply doesn't enter my consciousness.

Three of my close friends have lost their fathers, one whose dad just passed three weeks ago. I try to empathize and think about how hard it must be for them, but the truth is I have no idea. Only recently have I even had a male mentoring figure in my life, so all my experiences in learning from men have been pretty sparse. Actually, contentious is probably the better-suited word. When a man tries to educate me, in any sense of the word, things don't usually go over too well.

Needless to say, Father's Day is just another day to me. The only thing special about it is that it give me a chance to buy some new clothes or undershirts or something, capitalizing on the Father's Day sales...the one week of the year that men's clothing actually is discounted.

Juno just came to mind...the part where Jennifer Gardner's character is trying to convince Juno that Jason Bateman's character really does wanna be a father, but he's just hesitant. As Juno is scurrying out of their suburban splendor of a home, she says, "All the books say a woman becomes a mother when she gets pregnant, a man becomes a father once he sees his child."

If that's true, then I probably won't really "get" Father's Day until I'm a father myself.
I'm OK with that.

Let's go back up to that photo. I'd use an arrow, but I don't know how to make one go straight up like I would need it. Take another look at it. I'm a patient man (well, somewhat), I can wait.

I've always heard that single mothers have to be the mother and the father and that's why it's so hard. I don't know that I agree with that. The male role in a family is extremely important and a mother, no matter how strong she is, can't replace that. Over the years, my mom has attempted to give me mentors and have me get close to men, seemingly sensing this. Most of the time, I've been pretty obstinate to any efforts she's made in the area. At this point, it's too late. I'm a grown man. I don't need another man trying to treat me like a child.

Nope, I may not have had a father, but I had a mother who did teach me alot:

When dealing with a woman, above all else, treat her with respect.
Open every door for her. (She still stands in front of doors and waits for me to get there to open them up for her. If I hesitate, she just looks at me until I figure it out.)
Be honest with her.
Tell her she's beautiful.
Make her laugh.
Don't be afraid to be "soft" around her. Show her your kind heart.
But don't be too soft.

So I'm not one of those guys who gives his single mom a sappy Father's Day card. I didn't have one and that's OK. My mom taugh me more than enough and she did a better job than Carl Chandler probably would have.

But she was wrong about something --I got much more from her than my nose. And I can thank God for that...and her, too.

(P.S: This is what I looked like for the first year of my existence. Well, cuter of course. Oh, and I didn't have eyebrows for the first six months. I was like the yellow sheep of my family. Still kinda am, actually, but that's another blog for another day.)