ecovlke's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 9: Depression Era Green Glass Chapter 9: Depression Era Green Glass I miss my father, or rather I miss having the kind of relationship that I wish we could have had. My father, where do I begin. As a child I adored him. I had a toy helicopter. On this toy helicopter was a cartoon drawing of a lion and some writing of which I was too young to read. So I imagined it said "Daddy Land". And this helicopter was the way to get to a theme park that was based on my daddy, and all of the wonderful things that he meant to me. Daddy Land. Every weekday when I heard the noon whistle blow, I would run and look out of my bedroom window which faced the highway. Looking out across the field towards the highway, I could see my father's pickup truck as it traveled home to me. In the evenings when he came home for the night, I would sit on his lap, and after a while he would rub my face with his days growth of whiskers until I couldn't take any more. With his fingers he tickled me under the chin in a way that would make me laugh with a sound that was reminescent of sneezing. That always cracked him up. He tickled me until I was sore and I would run away laughing. Sometimes he would have in his pocket for me the Matchbox car that I saw at Ben Franklin's. On weekends he would take me to all kinds of places, airshows, car races, boat races, etcetra. He would give me sips of his beer from that big green glass that he always drank his beer from. As I got older I learned that it was my mother who bought the car for him to give me. That she begged him to take me places with him. I realized that he played with me until he was tired of it, and began to get rough with the play so I would leave him alone. The older I got, the more Daddy Land was becoming EuroDisney. I loved him very much. I loved him even when he beat me with a heavy duty extension cord, shocked me with his electric perferating machine, blamed me for my mother's drinking, made fun of me, etcetra. He was my father. the only father I ever knew. And I knew that he was damaged and hurting. And if doing these things to me helped him feel better, it was okay because I loved him. A week before he died I told him how much I loved him, and for the first time ever, he said the words that he loved me too. 12:04 a.m. - 2001-09-15 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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