Absent Dad

What is absent dad?

Father absence occurs when parents separate and the father no longer lives with his children. Parental separation has been proven to affect a child’s development and behavior.— Wikipedia

In my case, mom and dad separated emotionally but still lived together. They divorced later when I was an adult.

How did growing up absent from a dad affect me?

Dad is a man. So there is that touchy-feely male bonding thingy. Guys have a problem getting their arms around it (no pun intended).

Lacking a father, it pains me to admit that I grew up with masculine identity issues. I call it Zeus Energy syndrome.

The Greeks were familiar with it and wrote about it in many of their myths.

Hercules, the half-god/half-human, male child faced his hero journey alone. With a little help from magic dad, he defeated demons and walked the hall of apotheosis.

The hero journey of a fatherless son hasn’t changed in 2,000 years.

Fathers don’t simply abandon their families out of laziness or lack of love; they leave because they feel unworthy. Fathers go into parenthood with unrealistic standards, which ultimately sets them up for failure.— Why Fathers Leave Their Children by David Brooks

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, 18.3 million children, 1 in 4, live without a biological, step, or adoptive father in the home. There is a father factor in nearly all social ills facing America today. — Fatherhood.org

The modern world is more complicated than ancient Greece.

Robert Bly tried to bring men together in the 80s through their experimental Mythopoetic Men’s movement.

The movement was a body of self-help activities, therapeutic workshops, and retreats for men. In these retreats, men would camp out and wear war paint, pound on drums, and hug each other.

Photo by IMG_1979

The most well-known text of the movement was the book “Iron John: A Book About Men” by Robert.

Bly argued that “male energy” had been diluted by modern social institutions such as the feminist movement. Industrialization, and separation of fathers from family life through working outside the home.

Bly urged men to recover a pre-industrial conception of masculinity through spiritual camaraderie with other men in male-only gatherings.

In Bly’s book, he also introduced that releasing a man’s Zeus energy would bring him more in touch with his feminine half.

I tried Bly’s male bonding idea and my dad called me a fag.

I don’t know what dad wanted but when he remarried he told his new wife he had no kids.

Dad rarely spoke.

Often going days without uttering one word he would suddenly scare the bejabbers out of everyone with a rant.

“Fucking queers! Mexicans! Niggers! Communists! Hippies!” he shouted from his linoleum throne.

Dad’s nickname was “the Mad Dane” and besides his runaway dad from Denmark, I never understood the meaning.

Dad was short but handsome.

He had the look of a closer.

A blend between Rod Serling’s bushy black eyebrows and James Bond’s neat a pin haircut, shiny fingernails, and hairy arms.

Despite his mixed-up shortcomings, I loved my dad. Before the car accident and unemployment, we did some normal family things like go on vacation to a lake cabin.

He built me a bike.

He brought home a miniature road race set.

From his travels, he gave me a TWA airlines captain’s hat. When he still talked played poker with me and my brother’s friends.

Hard on a little guy’s ego is the mini moments you never forget. Like when you dropped out of baseball because you were the strike-out boy. The other dads watched the game and gave their support. You were an embarrassment in your learning how to be a man.

I knew somewhere in there was my old dad — the flamboyant, humorous guy who sang along to Frank Sinatra.

He did not hate me.

He hated what I represented — marching in protest against America he fought in a war to protect. I must have looked like someone else’s son, the way he stared at me with the dark eye of “dis” ownership. I felt Dad cared or was it he cared more about public opinion?

In Dad’s senior years he sported a straw hat, short gray beard, and cane. He developed a strange propensity for stopping every woman he met. Thinking he was charming, scared her with an unsolicited intrusion into her space.

Dad would smile and say to the women, “Hello, cutie pie,” violating their comfort zones. With a look of terror, they’d roll up their car window or run away. When possible, I would apologize and explain that my dad was trying to be friendly.

As time wore on I looked a lot like him. Some say I acted like him too.

Late in life, Dad relaxed his Right Wing, hardliner POV.

Our disagreements left questions, but I held no grudges and I hoped he felt the same.

On his 81st birthday, he gave his infamous, playful, thumb on the nose- hang loose cheer and said,

“Here’s to looking up your address!”

Dad’s ashes were released by airplane over the Southern California Coast.

Happy Father’s Day