Happy Father's Day!
I do worry about the type of dad I am and am going to be. I have two daughters and I see danger for them everywhere. But the danger I'm most concerned about is me. Am I doing a good job? Am I warping their psyche in some way that I am unaware of?
I know I'm not The Great Santini, but there's lots of inoccuous men out there that are total creeps. I don't want my girls dancing on poles at 23. The women who danced at The Blue Iguana were not happy.
National Review's Jonah Goldberg's father just died. Jonah published his eulogy here. THis is one of the best things I've ever read and written on very short notice. I secretly hope I have a lingering illness so people will have time to prepare something nice. But what will my girls say at my death?
I'm a little touchy about this because of my grandfather. Here he is. He died about 10 years ago. My father, who sort of led the care for him during his final years and was at his side when he passed, called me that day and asked if I would say a few words. I said sure, but then it dawned on me. I didn't really have anything nice to say.
You see, my grandfather wasn't an easy man. He probably had some personality disorder if not outright schizophrenia. Depression was in there. Paranoia too. Bottom line is that he was really kind of a son-of-a-bitch. It's sad to think that maybe a pill could have made his life happy and his families easier if he was born 70 years later, but oh well.
So I bailed on my eulogy. I was one of the younger grandkids and never lived in the same town as him. I wasn't around that much and there were other grandkids - much older - who could do a better job. But they had the same experiences. They had nothing nice to say.
Nobody had anything nice to say and if someone did say something nice we all would know it was a crock. This went unspoken but it was heavy in the air. So heavy that somewhere in the service I got the giggles. Right in the middle of the funeral. It was just plain funny; everyone sitting around paying their respects to a guy they didn't like.
But, God was it sad. God, I don't want that to be me.
Stay You.
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I know I'm not The Great Santini, but there's lots of inoccuous men out there that are total creeps. I don't want my girls dancing on poles at 23. The women who danced at The Blue Iguana were not happy.
National Review's Jonah Goldberg's father just died. Jonah published his eulogy here. THis is one of the best things I've ever read and written on very short notice. I secretly hope I have a lingering illness so people will have time to prepare something nice. But what will my girls say at my death?
I'm a little touchy about this because of my grandfather. Here he is. He died about 10 years ago. My father, who sort of led the care for him during his final years and was at his side when he passed, called me that day and asked if I would say a few words. I said sure, but then it dawned on me. I didn't really have anything nice to say.
You see, my grandfather wasn't an easy man. He probably had some personality disorder if not outright schizophrenia. Depression was in there. Paranoia too. Bottom line is that he was really kind of a son-of-a-bitch. It's sad to think that maybe a pill could have made his life happy and his families easier if he was born 70 years later, but oh well.
So I bailed on my eulogy. I was one of the younger grandkids and never lived in the same town as him. I wasn't around that much and there were other grandkids - much older - who could do a better job. But they had the same experiences. They had nothing nice to say.
Nobody had anything nice to say and if someone did say something nice we all would know it was a crock. This went unspoken but it was heavy in the air. So heavy that somewhere in the service I got the giggles. Right in the middle of the funeral. It was just plain funny; everyone sitting around paying their respects to a guy they didn't like.
But, God was it sad. God, I don't want that to be me.
Stay You.
Back to Main Page
posted by Howard McEwen, CFA at Friday, June 17, 2005
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