Oh, the things hindsight can teach us

I’m reflecting on my childhood right now, for some reason.  Hindsight is such a tricky, hateful thing.  It teaches me lessons long after the fact of whatever is in question.  I wish I could have hindsight WHILE things are happening.  I guess that would be called "wisdom"?

Growing up, I was a sad child.  I had a wonderful, doting, loving mother, who made me feel very special almost all the time.  I also had the big, tall, dark, brooding, loud, obnoxious father, who made me feel like I was a piece of shit.  Often, I felt my father hated me, and what has always been my reaction to people who hate me?  I hate them back.  So I felt like I hated Daddy.  If I had only known then what I know now.  I hate that expression so much.  I hate it because it seems so unfair that I wasted so many opportunities, so much time, in my life by being so negative.

The other day, I was talking to Mama, and I suddenly realized, AS I WAS TELLING HER, that the three of us (prior to 1990) pretty much had the ideal childhood, with one exception: Daddy’s temper.  

That is what crept into my head a few minutes before I started this entry.  Ideal childhood.  It’s true, too.  Let me try to explain.

Yes, my father had some bad traits that colored a lot of my own perceptions and reactions, BUT I know now how much he really loved me.  I didn’t know that, then.  Back then, I thought if you treated people in a bad way, you must hate them.  Since then, I’ve learned that life is sooooo much more than black and white.  There’re all kinds of shades of grey thrown in to complicate things!

I never really had much problem with Mama.  It bothered me that Daddy so completely ruled the roost, but, again, looking back, it’s the way she was brought up to be.  She was brought up to be the submissive partner, so it’s not like something she did deliberately.  My problems with Mama kicked in after 1990, when the world changed.  How I wish sometimes that I could alter the past.

We lived in a modest home, in a good, quiet neighborhood.  Our neighbors were ALL friends with us and each other.  I had my darling Mrs. Chaffee.  The home itself survives only in pictures, as it burned in 1993, after we had moved out of it.  I loved that house so much.  I still think of it as my dream home.  We always had something to eat.  We always had at least one car, usually two.  We had cable television, most of the time.  We each had televisions in our rooms.  We had plenty of toys and other interesting things to keep us occupied.  Later on, we kids shared a telephone line, with an extension in each of our bedrooms and one in the dining room.  We owned a personal computer when they were still pretty new and rare.  

I was completely oblivious to my parents’ problems in life until I was about twelve years old.  Around that time, they placed our home on the market for sale.  I didn’t realize completely at that time how hard that was for them.  They made it seem like they just wanted to sell it and move to a new place.  It wasn’t that simple, but what did I know?  I was a kid.  My problems consisted of fighting with siblings, fitting in at school, and whether or not I’d get caught raiding the refrigerator.  

My parents did something that was both wonderful and terrible all at the same time.  I can never really decide which one.  They kept their fights to themselves.  They almost NEVER fought in front of us kids.  I didn’t even know they DID fight, until my father had already been dead for years!  Talk about oblivious!  The reasons that this was wonderful are pretty obvious.  I always felt like my parents’ marriage was rock solid, with no serious issues going on that might break them up.  While around me, other people’s parents were getting divorced left and right, my parents seemed so happy with each other.  I will always thank them for that.  The reason I wonder if it was terrible is that I feel like it left me totally unprepared for the REALITY of life.  I thought when you got married, everything went smoothly, and everybody was always happy.  I thought people didn’t fight when they were married.  I thought all kinds of strange things!  You know what?  Right now, for the first time, I realize I should thank my mother for that, too.  It wasn’t terrible.  It was OPTIMISTIC!  It gave me something to look forward to.  I would thank Daddy if I could.

Daddy had a really bad temper, and he was physically and verbally abusive to all of us kids, but I must step in for his defense.  I truly, with all my heart, believe that he never intended to hurt us, at least mentally.  I can’t excuse the physical stuff, but the verbal abuse, when I look back on it….well, he was the product of a very difficult life and time.  He did his best.  It didn’t always work out for the best, but I can’t negate his effort entirely just because I didn’t like it.  Just because it hurt me.  I believe, in my soul, that he never knew how much his words hurt me.  I think he was built out of the "tough guy" mold, and he felt one just had to take the bitter with the sweet.  Well, that sounds familiar, doesn’t it?  Kinda like ME.  Not the "tough guy" part, but the bitter with the sweet part.

It’s exactly what everyone always says….if I only had known then what I know now……and it’s not too late.  I can UNtarnish his memory, which is a wonderful feeling.  A little polish never hurt anything!  I don’t deny reality.  He was a rough man.  But that rough man loved me, and, underneath my negativity, I loved him very much; so much that I miss him every day of my life.  My whole WORLD crumbled the day he died.  That’s why I always say the world changed in 1990.  It was really December 20, 1989, to be exact.  

There is so much more I want to put in this entry, but I don’t know how to say it all.  It was a good childhood.  Almost ideal.  If only I had seen that while it was happening.

Hindsight….well, it’s better late than never, I guess.

Love to all,

Jack