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Nov. 7th, 2010 09:49 pm
Jahrestage
Eighteen years ago today my dad and his girlfriend drove down to Hyde Park to visit me in my student-slum apartment on the western edge of Hyde Park. I was freezing my ass off sleeping in the sun porch until one of the roommates vacated the master bedroom at the end of December. Dad was here to celebrate his 50th birthday and it's an understatement to say that it did not go well: they got lost, got into a fight, and he got out of the car. After some amount of wandering the neighbourhood on foot, he found my place; she never did.
I remembered this at some point during--or was it before?--a marathon phone conversation with my father this afternoon. It shocked me to do the math and realise that pretty soon his relationship with that girlfriend--for a long time now my stepmother--will have outlasted his marriage to my mother. The celebration at their house yesterday was an altogether happier affair than that night in Chicago; my older brother fondly described roasting marshmallows with the eldest nephew while he, his brother-in-law, and our father all competed to impart their wisdom to the defenceless nine year-old.
It's good to think about this, since it distracts me from some other anniversaries, fresher and therefore more bittersweet. One month, three months, a year--I never thought of myself being so conscious of dates, but I suppose I am and always have been. I don't think I've ever forgotten the 5th of November. I certainly always remember the 11th, even if it's years since I used to hold a Martinmas Dinner. That made more sense when the biggest holiday of the month was one I spent in St Louis. But now![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu has claimed it and I've just about trained my family to be content with Christmas.
And it was good to recall how badly Dad and I used to get along, since it not only prompts me to treasure more the rewarding relationship we have now but also gives me hope for others that seem to be reaching a low ebb. People are endlessly surprising--both in good ways and really shitty ones. And you don't get to see that if you don't stick around.
I remembered this at some point during--or was it before?--a marathon phone conversation with my father this afternoon. It shocked me to do the math and realise that pretty soon his relationship with that girlfriend--for a long time now my stepmother--will have outlasted his marriage to my mother. The celebration at their house yesterday was an altogether happier affair than that night in Chicago; my older brother fondly described roasting marshmallows with the eldest nephew while he, his brother-in-law, and our father all competed to impart their wisdom to the defenceless nine year-old.
It's good to think about this, since it distracts me from some other anniversaries, fresher and therefore more bittersweet. One month, three months, a year--I never thought of myself being so conscious of dates, but I suppose I am and always have been. I don't think I've ever forgotten the 5th of November. I certainly always remember the 11th, even if it's years since I used to hold a Martinmas Dinner. That made more sense when the biggest holiday of the month was one I spent in St Louis. But now
monshu has claimed it and I've just about trained my family to be content with Christmas.And it was good to recall how badly Dad and I used to get along, since it not only prompts me to treasure more the rewarding relationship we have now but also gives me hope for others that seem to be reaching a low ebb. People are endlessly surprising--both in good ways and really shitty ones. And you don't get to see that if you don't stick around.
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