Morphing into My Father One Joke at a Time
Unlike a lot of women who subconsciously marry their father, I spent most of my twenties looking for the polar opposite of mine. With Rex's quiet, predictable, and calm-to-the- core personality, I indeed found the subdued ying to my father's all-you-can-talk, larger than life, unpredictable yang.
As is always the case with a life well examined (too examined as some of the haters of this blog remind me, in which case I will respond, "Then stop reading!") there are some downs to not marrying my father's ups.
There are less raucous meals around the table with uninvited (but always interesting) "friends" my father met that day at a hard ware store, a parking lot or a K-mart blue light special.
There is less army themed car tunes, less last minute road trips (in RV's we can't afford to buy) and less deli frequenting.
While my "out there" personality appreciates the grounded Rex in my life, I am realizing how much I miss my dad. It only makes sense, then, that at 40 I have become less like my husband and am morphing into a fast-talking Jewish man who lives for last minute visits from friends, "dietetic" sodas, soft bagels and a great joke that incorporates both a good punch line as well as the exact audience who I am delivering it to. "There was once a traveling salesman who sat on a plane next to a nun, a rabbi, and a Good House Keeping blogger..."
Today I'm on deadline for another project. Rather than sit at home alone with a pile of dishes for company, I asked myself the ever enlightening spiritual question: WWMD? What would Melvin do?
First he'd call friends. (Check.) Then he'd write out a to-do list. (Check.) Then he'd take himself to a cafeteria style restaurant full of comfort food, coffee and a good selection of pie. Home Town Buffet fits the bill for me.
I'm typing there now. As I fill my belly with nurturing comfort food, I'm again reminded that Rex doesn't have to fill every crevice of my soul. I can smile at the grandpa with the words "Old Fart" emblazoned on his baseball cap. (My dad would have loved that one.)
I can chat with the chubby baby sneaking a peek at me through green check curtain table separators. "Hola!" I wave enthusiastically.
I can avoid contact with the waitress who likely wonders why I've been sitting here THREE HOURS drinking vats and vats of diner coffee. (I'll leave a nice tip... no worries.)
Most important, I'll return to my family fulfilled.
Rex is a far cry from my father. But lucky for him, I'm not . (I've snuck a piece of chocolate cream pie home in my sling style purse. It's tacky. It's deliciously deceptive. Melvin would be proud.)
How about you? Any of you marry your mothers or fathers? If not, why not? Happy you did or did not? What great parts of your parents are you incorporating into your marriages?
* Photo of my dad making me laugh at my wedding during the Father/Daughter Dance.
Posted by Andrea Frazer
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