Today would have been my father’s 73rd birthday. The longer he’s dead, the less I think about him quite frankly. That situation was just plain ugly, and it’s been a source of major pain for a lifetime. That relationship alone has probably put more dents in my can than all others combined, but I know it isn‘t just me. Father relationships are a major part of life.
My grandpa used to tell me that on both sides of every stripper pole there was a bad job of fathering - the girl dancing and the guy watching. Gramps was THE major influence in my life, the reason I’m not dead or in prison. His mentorship continues to help me today.
The few times I can remember speaking with my father, he always had a disdain for his father and said how they never got along. I guess that isn’t always the case, and those that get a second chance with grand kids often make up for their initial mistakes as parents.
Whatever went wrong in my father’s life, it sure was major. Like Anakin Skywalker, he not only went to the dark side - he became their poster child. The more I tried to carve out any kind of relationship with my father, the less it worked. We could never see eye to eye, and we spent a lot more years not talking to each other than in contact. It was a mismatch.
The one thing that’s been most difficult for me to deal with when it comes to my father is forgiveness. Try as I might to let go, I always clung to the mean spirited hurtful things he said and did and it’s been a major source of all things negative. I looked him in the eye when we had our face to face meeting and told him I forgave him, but I really hadn’t yet.
That was 16 years ago now, and it seems like an eternity. I saw him only one more time after that, and that was when my grandmother was going into a nursing home and all of us gathered at her house to clean out her belongings. He was being a pompous knob that day as he always did, and after a few short minutes I’d had my fill and got in my car and left.
When I heard he died, I didn’t have any emotion at all. In the years since, his memory is fading into the past and I think of him less and less. I can honestly say I tried my very best to salvage some kind of relationship with him, even though we never did. I did all I could from my side, but in the end it was a flaming flop. I was never able to truly forgive him.
I wasn’t even thinking about him or his birthday this morning when I went into my bank to deposit a check from the gig I did in Decatur last week. I saw it was November 10th and it hit me. It only took a split second to recall his image, but there was no anger attached.
The next thing that hit harder was that I was finally able to genuinely forgive him and let all that ugly past go. Just like that. I knew it was gone. It was a big relief. It was like a kid trying to lose a baby tooth that just wouldn’t come out. Eventually, it falls out all by itself and is never a problem again. That’s kind of how it felt today. I saw all the pain he put us all through, but it didn’t sting anymore. I was able to look at it for what it was, put it way in the past and know that he or his tyrant attitude would never be able to hurt me again.
I sat in the car for a few minutes trying to figure it all out, but then I decided it wasn’t important. That whole mess is over, and the damage has long been done. I still have the scars, but there are no open wounds anymore. He’s dead, and his power to hurt is gone.
If there was one person meaner than my old man it was his wife - my step mother. We never got along either, and as a kid I remember praying for her slow and painful death. It shamed me when I eventually got it, but I did. She had diabetes pretty bad and from what I heard it was quite nasty. Our relationship aside, I’m very sorry I wished that on anybody.
My grandmother was the one who told me about it, and she had Alzheimer’s disease at the time. She must have told me a dozen times in five minutes, and as soon as I heard she died I was able to immediately forgive her for whatever she may have done at any time in the past. She knew what she did, and now she would have to answer for it. I forgave her.
I knew when I had that feeling it would be permanent, and I wouldn’t change my mind later and get pissed off all over again. I don’t know how I knew that, but I did. And I was right - it’s never come back. I still think she was mean and nasty and we never got along, but I carry no grudge with her and let it go. It’s for me, not for her. I have my own faults.
When I had the feeling today about my father I knew that would be permanent as well. I don’t have to like him or rewrite history and say how great he was or anything other than just LET IT ALL GO and don’t claim it anymore. The damage is done, he’s dead, and he has to answer to the same source his wife did. If there’s justice anywhere, it’ll work out.
I’m not claiming perfection in anything and never have. I have plenty of my own black ink to erase from my life, but the old man sure didn’t make life easier for any of his kids. I know I’m not the only one who’s had to deal with this ugliness so my mission in life is to reach out to as many other dented cans as I’m able to find and give them my support.
Sometimes that can come from humor, but other times it’s just being real enough to be there and let them express their feelings. Dented cans are sensitive for the most part and it feels good to have others who can relate to their pain. I’ve had countless people come up and tell me how they can relate to the whole dented can theme, but I wish they couldn’t.
I wish I couldn’t. I wish I had a loving wife and family supporting me in whatever I did and me being the source of it all as the head of the household. Maybe I wouldn’t have the need to be a comedian, but that’s ok. I’m sure I would have found something else I liked.
So many good friends like Jerry Agar and Bert Haas have had wonderful families with amazing kids. They both have three of the most wonderful kids I’ve ever known, and for me to see them all grow up from babies is a privilege. That’s how life is supposed to be.
I never got that, and I’m not alone. I can’t change it, so all I can do is reach out for the rest of my life and encourage other dented cans like me to keep plugging. I’m not all the way there yet. Tomorrow is my mother’s birthday, and that one still has some raw nerves.
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