Years ago, my biological father and I sat on the banks of some river? lake? body of water in central Arkansas, where he lived. It was a momentous occasion because I had visited him only a few times before.
This was a chance to actually talk, to share, to be able to share what I had learned and I had questions about, to get that confirmation from my father that I was coming into my own, that I was growing up. I was still in high school in Southern California, the 405 and Harbor freeways a world away from the kind of backroads that permitted two cars to pass on either side only if both drivers risked life and Coupe de Ville by getting close to the ditch on either side of the road.
Pop looked out onto the water and started in on a story. A long, involved story about his time at Malvern High School for Negroes, and one of his classmates whose body was at the bottom of said body of water.
Affirmation is what I needed from a man whose name I carry. I was a teenager, wanting to her that my father, the biological one, loved me and was interested in what was going on with me. I wanted to be there with him and listen to every story, but to be able to share my own opinions, my own goings-on, and to show him that I was becoming my own person was especially important to me then.
Now, I realize that Pop was really doing te best he could with what he knew. I looked at my Arkansas visits with the eye of a visitor; he looked at it as just another weekend that i just happened to be there. We all have issues, and I like to think I’ve gotten past a couple of mine, but this time of year, where I just mailed his card late, I start to think about these things. Also, the difference between him and my stepfather, who filled the void and then some when I had no father figure to attach to. The man who taught me to shave, tie a tie, enunciate my words, appreciate jazz, taught and listened when I was young and, frankly, pretty hardheaded.
I know I’m not the only person who’s rather “meh” about their biological fathers; just felt like typing that out.