For Father's Day

If you have siblings, there is one thing you can be pretty certain of: your view of your father is different than theirs.

Two-plus years ago, as I listened to my brothers speaking at my father’s funeral, I remember wondering if we had existed in parallel universes. Their descriptions of the man were very different than mine, but much more similar to each other’s. I’m not claiming my memory of him was more accurate than theirs (although I’m clearly the most objective and accurate of the four of us), but the person they described was not the person I knew.

Carolyn’s perception of her father is also very different than that of her brothers and sisters (“those” may perhaps be the more accurate pronoun, because each probably has his/her own perception). That I shared her high opinion of him probably also differentiates me from my brothers- and sisters-in-law. 

None of this is particularly surprising, because our views of our fathers are distinguished by our personal views of the world around us, as well as our father’s place in it. Our view of our fathers is also based on their relationships with us, and our actions and reactions are certainly at least partly responsible for that. Birth order, family dynamics, marital relations, life events, all change us; we need to recognize and remember they changed our fathers, as well.

I apparently found my father, at least during my childhood and adolescence, less overbearing and controlling than my brothers, perhaps because I tended to be (again, in my view) either more compliant or less confrontational. Our conflicts came later, when I, at long last, established my independence and my own identity.

I have my theories as to why Carolyn had the closest relationship with her Dad of her siblings, but that she thought he was great certainly colored my view of him. I also acknowledge that I owe him a lot for the important role he played in her life and growth.

It is just one more advantage of having only one child. While Nicci certainly changed me, made me a better person, a better husband, a better teacher, her view of me has no competition. Although maybe, given my various personality incarnations, perhaps even that’s not true. My old joke used to be, “If you don't like me, just wait a few years; I’ll be somebody different.” Usually I was. I just hope that each variation ended up with me being a better person.