strange how a single experience can be so different to two different people living it.
or sad.
maybe in this case it's sad...
i have a memory from my childhood that i cherish: renovating with my dad. my dad was a workaholic, an intense and demanding man. although my memory around specific details is non-existant, i do have snippets of moments that could have been irritating, but that i know even then made me laugh. stuff like he'd have this sentence: "all i ask is..." of course, that one thing always changed. "all i ask is for you to have the hammer ready when i need it, that's all i ask... is that so difficult for you to do?" and then 10 minutes later he'd hit you with something like "all i ask is that you stand close by with the plyers - that's all i ask of you." well, you get the point. i even remember calling him on it. oh sure, not right then: that would have earned me some ugliness for sure. but well-timed, perhaps days later at the dinner table, i could poke a little fun and he'd laugh at it too and it would all be good.
those days were glorious for me. waking up early and going to mcdonald's on our way to home depot. the smell of lumber and lugnuts swelling my lungs as the day or weekend's agenda began to take shape before us. home depot wasn't like shopping with mom at the IGA. i would never dream of sitting in the cart or whining for shit. i was an apprentice, not a daughter - and i wore the honour proudly.
i don't remember my brother in these moments though. was he there? or at home - waiting for the horror of our return and his torment to begin. i'm certain he does not remember renovating with my dad as something to fondly, laughingly reminisce about. was it really that he was slower? was it really that he was incompetent? i dunno, maybe in some ways it was. maybe he just wasn't made for the tedium of banging in nails - though ironically he's a labourer now.
i don't know what it was - but he hated it, and my dad hated him for that. which came first? the fatherly disdain or the son's detachment? was my dad harder on my brother, or did i just take his shit better? i mean, i know on the larger scale of things my dad was insanely more brutal with my brother than he would ever be with me. oh i don't know. that's not really what i want to write about now anyway. it just occured to me as i was about to glow and gush over this favourite memory that this is not so for all participants.
5 comments:
Ah yes, those fondest of fond memories of sweating out tooled projects with all the family present... Man, I hated that shit. But my dad was an insufferable dick when it came to getting things done. And a really crappy manager to boot. His idea of instruction went something like this:
DAD: "alright, shit then, I'll show you. Take this here: like this, and you need to hold this up higher. Higher. Goddamnit, higher! Are you listening to me bub?! Now grab that and put it there. There. THERE GODDAMNIT! I'm speaking english over here, aren't I. Criminy Christmas. Oh forget it."
**Item, purpose, tool, whatever, is yanked away from child. Father's back now turned.**
CHILD: sheepish shrug.
DAD: "never mind."
Okay then. Great learning session there Pop. Thanks. I feel ready for the world.
I hope my girlfriend is as excited about labor as you seem to be! The DIY thing is HOT-HOT-HOT. Hot.
wow man, it's like a page right out of the Winston-Dream story book (my dad=Winston, my brother=Dream). freaky. but you see, i dug that shit. maybe i was just good at figuring it all out pretty quickly, but sometimes i'd also call him on it. i mean shit, you want my help? you know i'm dying to help, so tell me how. i dunno know, i just knew how to get my dad to treat me like a human better i guess? just got lucky.
..DIY?
DIY: "Do It Yourself".
I discussed this whole fix-and-refurbish stuff with my lady, and she admits to loving caulk too. That's my girl! Whoo-hoo!
heh
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