Happy Father's Day

I am the beneficiary of life with a very good Father. He was a 50-60's Dad- expectations were high, generally unstated, and punishments were expected for deviations. The minor deviations were being late for curfew, bad manners at the table, or leaving some sort of mess. The punishments for those infractions were, correlatively, grounding, a knife blade to the knuckles followed by banishment from the table, and chores. There was no negotiating. Life was simple. The biggest infraction in my family was mouthing off, and of course, I had the biggest mouth of all. Mom tended to be a face slapper when confronted with sass- she even punished non-verbal communication, such as an eyebrow lift, with the swift right. Dad hated to be the enforcer, but his arsenal included spanking in the traditional manner, and the hybrid of a spank for every step as he marched us up to our rooms. As you can imagine, the Joliat kids were noted for their compliant behavior. We marched into church every Sunday, back pew, and behaved like the Trapp family singers after Maria got her hands on them. This behavior was required for survival: eight of us lived in a small space, and peace was essential.

Steve and I detoured a bit from this child-rearing model when the kids were little. His workday was not conventional. He spent most weekends on the road, playing with Teenage Radiation, and as a fringe benefit, partying madly. For the kids, this meant that there were few absolutes- with 3 boys I adopted the "be nice" standard, but I never really had a punch list of expectations or consequences. Unlike my childhood home, there was enough space for me to banish a child who was bugging me or a sibling. I was pretty elastic, and the boys were pretty good. Then they became teenagers. Boys in puberty. I was not equipped. At this precise moment, Steve buckled down, stopped drinking, and provided a rigid and immovable bumper for those boys to bounce off of. It was another moment when I realized that I married my dad. Steve waited up for the Testosterone posse while I slept. He barked. He knew what they were plotting before the plan was launched. For our combined efforts, we have three men we are very proud of. I have a husband that I treasure as a partner in this most important realm: parenthood.

We still differ in our parental techniques. Of course, the boys are wise enough to exploit our varied styles to get what they want...sometimes. What they want generally comes from Steve these days, so I am off the hook. (except when Matt wants to visit with his vagabond dog, Walter..or worse yet, when he wants us to dog-sit. I am soft for that mongrel, and Steve is rabid in his antipathy, so Matt still works me like the devil) I am sure that Pat, Matt and Mike completely agree with the maxim that the best gift a Dad can give his kids is to love their Mother. This core of love, wicking down, provides the best security a kid can have. It means that they have a foundation, knit with resolve and determination, that can absorb every kind of hell that life holds. I had it. My boys have it. This unspoken gift is so precious that we sometimes fail to appreciate it. Today is the day for acknowledging this gift of stability and love. It is a day for thanks.


Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Steve. Happy Father's Day.