Thursday, May 06, 2004
THE END OF SILENCE
In thinking back to Punky’s first year there was an important event that occurred. My mom and dad happened to be at our house for some occasion I don’t even remember. The thing I do remember is that mom was out of the room which left dad, George, Punky and me. Punky was at the crawling and pulling up stage so he was on the floor and all of a sudden drew a bead on dad. To my amazement he got to dad’s leg and began pulling himself up….he made a bobble and would have fallen but dad reacted quickly and saved the day. Before he thought, dad looked at me and said, “Wow….did you see that? He almost fell.” Not wanting to lose the moment I said, “Good thing you made the grab or he would have.” It was the first words dad and I had spoken to each other in 4-years.
My cousin, Dale, and I understand this perfectly. The Andersen men, once they painted themselves in a corner, would stay there until an act of God got them out. It was a sign of weakness to say the simple words, “I’m sorry” or “I was wrong.” Manhood was all in being tough and working yourself to death and always being right. You either stayed in that environment or left it as Louis and I did. It didn’t seem strange to us because we had always heard the story of how dad left home at 15-years of age to work. The thought had long been entertained that this was a normal thing.
I will never know the silent anguish that dad went through in those years. How many nights did my mother go to bed and wonder how I was doing and where I was. Dad and I never discussed that in the years after but mom and I did. As for herself she said she knew I would be OK because I was so capable. Not that she didn’t concern herself with me but mom was a woman who waited things out until they fixed themselves……and they usually did….for the better.
Over those years I sent dad birthday and Father’s Day cards. Mom said he would look at them and say “I haven’t been much of a father but she never forgets me.” One time my brother came home to visit and dad was telling him how hard I had worked and still finished school. He always thought Louis should have completed his schooling but he never did. In his case he got along fine without the diploma but it was not an option for me. I made sure I graduated……to prove to myself that I was not a “quitter.”
Once the ice was broken dad and I were able to develop a good relationship in time. He beat himself up many times for being a “bad father” although those exact words were not used. One time he told aunt Mary that if he had it to do over he would let Louis and I do more of what we wanted rather than making us always do what he wanted. I considered this to be as close to an apology as Louis and I would ever hear.
Considering the way dad was raised and the hardships he endured I never held a grudge against him. He had to be tough to come through tough times and in the years Louis and I grew up men didn’t have much to do with their children. The women had them and raised them. The men worked hard and made a living. The children were to realize they were provided for and expected to do what was asked of them. Between my dad’s toughness and my mother’s tenderness we grew up with a strong sense of right and wrong and the consequences of both. We knew the emotions of “tough” and “tenderness” in the right situation.
I feel so sorry for men who are trapped into thinking they can’t show emotion, can’t cry and can’t express feelings. I have known many men like this in my journey….relatives, friends and acquaintances. They miss a lot and live with many regrets. By letting dad work out his own demons and with the birth of a little boy our relationship was restored. “God works in mysterious ways….His wonders to perform………
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
My cousin, Dale, and I understand this perfectly. The Andersen men, once they painted themselves in a corner, would stay there until an act of God got them out. It was a sign of weakness to say the simple words, “I’m sorry” or “I was wrong.” Manhood was all in being tough and working yourself to death and always being right. You either stayed in that environment or left it as Louis and I did. It didn’t seem strange to us because we had always heard the story of how dad left home at 15-years of age to work. The thought had long been entertained that this was a normal thing.
I will never know the silent anguish that dad went through in those years. How many nights did my mother go to bed and wonder how I was doing and where I was. Dad and I never discussed that in the years after but mom and I did. As for herself she said she knew I would be OK because I was so capable. Not that she didn’t concern herself with me but mom was a woman who waited things out until they fixed themselves……and they usually did….for the better.
Over those years I sent dad birthday and Father’s Day cards. Mom said he would look at them and say “I haven’t been much of a father but she never forgets me.” One time my brother came home to visit and dad was telling him how hard I had worked and still finished school. He always thought Louis should have completed his schooling but he never did. In his case he got along fine without the diploma but it was not an option for me. I made sure I graduated……to prove to myself that I was not a “quitter.”
Once the ice was broken dad and I were able to develop a good relationship in time. He beat himself up many times for being a “bad father” although those exact words were not used. One time he told aunt Mary that if he had it to do over he would let Louis and I do more of what we wanted rather than making us always do what he wanted. I considered this to be as close to an apology as Louis and I would ever hear.
Considering the way dad was raised and the hardships he endured I never held a grudge against him. He had to be tough to come through tough times and in the years Louis and I grew up men didn’t have much to do with their children. The women had them and raised them. The men worked hard and made a living. The children were to realize they were provided for and expected to do what was asked of them. Between my dad’s toughness and my mother’s tenderness we grew up with a strong sense of right and wrong and the consequences of both. We knew the emotions of “tough” and “tenderness” in the right situation.
I feel so sorry for men who are trapped into thinking they can’t show emotion, can’t cry and can’t express feelings. I have known many men like this in my journey….relatives, friends and acquaintances. They miss a lot and live with many regrets. By letting dad work out his own demons and with the birth of a little boy our relationship was restored. “God works in mysterious ways….His wonders to perform………
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
