I took a stab at writing something about the big stretch that the concept of fatherhood is undergoing for me this Father's Day, from tending to the shell of my own father, to twisting streamers and blowing up balloons, metaphorically, as father of my two sons whose weddings are rushing toward us.
But the essay was stillborn and, wrapping it in newspaper and tucking it into a dumpster, I instead fled into the past looking for something I'd written for Father's Day. This, from 2008, seems worth sharing.
But the essay was stillborn and, wrapping it in newspaper and tucking it into a dumpster, I instead fled into the past looking for something I'd written for Father's Day. This, from 2008, seems worth sharing.
For a few days he joined me, and it was wonderful to sit there together in the kitchen, to clink coffee cups and silently sip, reading the newspapers.
When he asked for a second cup, I said no. One cup is plenty for a little boy. OK then, he ventured, would I sign a note so he can drink some of the coffee that his teacher brings? Or could he take his own thermos to school, so he could drink coffee at lunch?
"I need it," he said.
They never teach you in rehab about what to tell your children about being an alcoholic, and I'm sure plenty of drunks and addicts struggle with what to say. The tempting route is silence. While overcoming an addiction is some of the hardest work you will ever do — I think of Virgil's line about fleeing hell: "But to retrace one's steps and escape to the upper air; that is toil; that is labor" — it is not the sort of achievement you typically brag about to your kids.
Silence might be most comfortable for the adults, but it doesn't help children, who are invariably dealing with their own concerns and fears. But what do you tell them? Rehab stresses honesty, and that seems the best approach. Answer the questions your kids may have. While addiction is thought to be partially genetic, and the risk for children of alcoholics is certainly greater, it is not a preordained doom, and you can use your understanding of your situation to guide your kids. My boys haven't reached high school, the age where problems typically begin. But at least I know where to go if they need help; they won't have to wait 25 years before they take a hard look at themselves. I'm planning to tell them that while alcohol is a joy of life, drinking alcohol is no fun if you have to.
Nor is drinking coffee. My boy's words in the kitchen startled me. "I need it." I took a deep breath and gazed intently at him, carefully framing my reply.
"You know what happened last year," I began. "And the problem that I have."
He nodded.
"Well, if I've learned one thing being an . . . alcoholic, it's this: if you need something, you can't have it. So if you can drink a cup of coffee with me and then stop, then you can have one. But if you are going to have to drink more and more coffee, because you need it, then you can't have any at all."
He seemed to understand, and stopped asking for coffee. I filed away that chilling phrase — "I need it" — and moved on. Father's Day is supposed to be about passing along traditions — fishing and football, golf and gardening. But not every tradition is a happy one. The key is to not be angry or ashamed, and approach the difficult family legacies with the same love, thought and care that you bring to the joyous ones.
— Originally published in the Sun-Times, June 15, 2008
Happy Father’s Day, Neil.
ReplyDeleteThank you. 46 years.
ReplyDeleteBravo.
ReplyDeleteMy decent into addiction and road to recovery all happened before my sons were born. they weren't surprised to learn of it in their teens , its so commonplace in our society. We speak of it often without discomfort. Well into adulthood , they've all managed to avoid it themselves so far and for this im grateful.
ReplyDeletehappy fathers day Neil and to your father as well.
My dad has been gone for 48 years now. I remember those early morning chats over coffee, about life and stuff. He was born in 1909 and I wonder what he would make of the world today. He'd still be a union man, but probably not a Republican. I'm 12 years older now than he was when he died. I miss him.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Neil, for continuing to shine light into the dark holes of our culture in your self-disclosing, sensitive and respectful manner. Your sons are so fortunate to have you as their dad. Happy Father's Day.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was a very young child the Sunday ritual was to sit at the kitchen table with my father and have a cup of coffee. He would read the paper and I would read the "funnies". My coffee consisted of 1/4 coffee & 3/4 milk.These are wonderful memories. My father was born in Kyiv in 1909 and died at age 72. To this day, my first Sunday morning cup of coffee automatically consists of 1/4 coffee & 3/4 milk while I read the "funnies". Thank you for reminding me why and sharing your memory.
ReplyDeleteYou're a father, Mr. S, as well as a dad, and your fortunate sons have both. I didn't. I had the first, but not the second. My old man was angry, short-fused, abusive, and a real piece of...work. A good earner, and a good provider, but little more. Problems were solved by throwing money at them. To say he was missed would be stretching it, and more than a bit. Very few did.
ReplyDeleteThe times of spending two hours at Walgreen's, looking for the "right" greeting card (generically affectionate, but without the word "love"...and never in rhyme), are ancient history now. Sadly, I've inherited many of his traits. But my father was also the one who took me to my first Cub game, and who passed on to me his love of Chicago, and of Broadway show tunes, and of all things Sinatra. Nobody...well, make that almost nobody...is all bad.
the only good things I can say about my father are: he was a good grandfather
Deleteand he didn't kill me when he threatened to, gun in hand
Well done on all levels. My father was the son of a Norwegian ship captain and a Prussian-born mother who came to America as a child. Grandma Emma lived with us when mom went back to work and she would make bread and pan fried (in butter) bread covered with sugar which we had with morning coffee, mine half cream. I've had morning coffee from age 4 and for the next 76 years. My kindergarten report card said "Gene is a nice boy, but he talks too much." Caffeine will do that for you. As for the life lesson for your son, a great lesson for all of us.
ReplyDeletewise father, smart kid
ReplyDeleteAlcohol hastened the death of my mother, and almost killed me. A brother and my daughter are in recovery, both for lengthy periods. It's 41 years sober for me, and I'll tell anyone who asks why I don't drink. Most of the people around me knew me as an active drunk, I'll be happy to let anyone know, but only if they ask. God bless you...keep coming back.
ReplyDeleteYou are a good Dad. Great advice. I’m going to use it.
ReplyDelete