supernovice

Finally, inspired to write...

I will never be able to express the profound sorrow required for me to cut myself open and spill "me" all over this pseudo-diary, but suffice it to say, I hope to record something moving here, if I choose to record anything at all.

Yesterday I watched a movie with the roomie that reminded me... Reminded me of what, exacty, I'm not sure, but it was some cheesy Kevin Costner, kid-flick, where he was Vietnam vet suffering from feelings of guilt and trying to raise his kids with values long forgotten. One scene, in particular, reminded me of my father.
I never had the love/hate, Freudian relationship with Pops that most dudes endure. My memories of Dad are mostly of a guy who was trying to do his best, in the face of an impossible reality. Struggle, struggle, to no avail. Why he didn't call it quits years ago, I'll never know.
He and Mom had split up when I was very young, but he just kept trying and trying, embarassingly so. I used to harbor a considerable amount of disrespect for him - the way he kept chasing my Mom - disgusting. Let her go, already.
Once, when I was a little too big for my britches, I was going off on Mom, the way I had become accustomed to, in his absence, and he, in a moment of raw emotion, struck me - hard. He NEVER hit me, really, ever. The occasional disciplinary action was to be expected for infractions, but it was never like this. Out of nowhere, I was running my mouth, and BAM! I just stared at him, in shock, really, not sure of what had just taken place. Then he said something I will never forget. He corrected me, but in his own way. He didn't say, "Don't talk to your mother like that." As I sat there, lip swelling, he said, "Don't ever talk to my wife that way." Until then, I never understood what a great disrespect I was paying him...

There's something to be said for the bond between man and woman...