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In 1991 my father, mother, brother, and myself transitioned from a single-wide trailer to a brand new home that my father partially built with the help of his brothers. They were excellent tradesmen; skilled carpenters and electricians that championed the cause of improving the quality of life of their brother’s family. Our home was the quintessential representation of movement toward a middle class existence. I had my own room and that the loft above the garage would end up being a play room for me and my brother. Living space was ample and the home amenities were first class. We had new living room furniture, kitchen appliances, and bedroom sets. We had everything that signified we had achieved upward social mobility.
My father was a self-made man that came from poverty. He was his own student and worked his way up to be a Master Electrician and Welder in the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers (IBEW) union. He often worked away for months on the more lucrative jobs in the Northeast. He was committed to providing his family with the best that money could buy and he spared no expense.
In the early 1990’s we had two large screen televisions, one in our living room and the other in the loft.
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In the early 1990’s we had two large screen televisions, one in our living room and the other in the loft. The living room setup included a surround sound setup with gigantic General Electric speakers, receiver, and 5-disc CD changer. The setup in the loft consisted of a Nintendo with at least 25 games and a Super Nintendo with 5 games or so. We had two controllers for each system. My brother and I would spend countless hours engrossed in games that are considered nostalgic today. My father would always complain about the video games and the amount of time we spent playing, but he always managed to buy us a couple new ones every year for our birthdays and/or Christmas. He wanted to give us the things that he never had growing up and he had the means to do it.
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In the mid-1990s I entered my teenage years and my father continued to work hard and provide his family with the best. My mother worked hard too but did not make nearly the money that my father did. She was home with me and my brother every night after a long day and was the rock while my father worked away for months on end for years. I reaped the fruits of their labor. I had punk rock posters plastered throughout my room and a portable CD player with headphones complete with a solid CD collection. I had access to an outdoor basketball goal and a four-wheeler that was always gassed up and ready. Eventually, we even had a full-size pool table with a ping-pong conversion top in the loft. We wanted for nothing, yet I remember feeling that something was missing.
Eventually, we even had a full size pool table with a ping-pong conversion top in the loft. We wanted for nothing, yet I remember feeling that something was missing.
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Why did I feel so sad? I had everything a kid could ever want. Why did I feel so disconnected, lost, and depressed?
I was missing my father’s presence and his love. I was missing the way that I needed to be loved, which is different for every boy. I needed my father to cheer me on at my baseball games and to give me confidence in school when bullies were teasing me about being overweight. I needed my father to teach me how to fix a mechanical problem instead of telling me to focus on school and that one day I will be able to pay someone to do it for me. I needed my father give me real praise on my efforts with difficult homework assignments instead of a flat-lined non-emotional response. I needed the things that were not actual things.
It has taken much of my adult life to harness the confidence and self-esteem needed to navigate as a successful man in this world. I am not blaming my father for the way he showed his love because he was showing his love the only way he knew how. He wanted to give us nice things because he never had nice things. His masculine identity was tied to the things he owned and the gifts he could give. Hell, he never had food some days so I was grateful for all that he provided.
A father has the enormous task of figuring out what his son needs. It may be a kind word, a trip to the beach to go fishing, helping throw a curveball, or sitting on the back deck watching the sunset. A son needs things from his father that money cannot buy. Providing time and presence is a tall ordeal in modern life, but it needs to be set as a priority. Investing in a boy’s emotional development is the best gift you can ever give.
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I have enjoyed your Blog, there is one thing that I found to be somewhat disturbing to me is “Hell, he never had food some days” There was never a day that any of us went without food growing up. We were never hungry. We always had food on the table. Clothes on our backs. We had all of what we needed and a lot of what we wanted. We had an amazing Mother…we were loved <3 Where it may not have been enough for your Dad, I feel so blessed to have had the childhood I had. Keep up… Read more »