Thanksgiving was odd.
I've been sitting here working on my contracts outline* for a bit, but I can't seem to stop my mind from wandering to the Thanksgiving that just past.
As you probably know, I went to my Dad's for Thanksgiving this year, which I guess is the second Thanksgiving meal in a row I've spent with him. Last year went fine, this year, not so much. Nothing went wrong, per se. But it all felt wrong.
Let's start towards the beginning. We got into South Dakota Wednesday night and from the beginning it was weird. We were sitting in the car in front of my Dad's for a second, just getting our heads together and taking one last moment to collect ourselves, when the garage door slowly started to crawl up and the light started leaking from the inside into the frigid night. And we were on our way.
Wednesday wasn't so bad. We chatted for a bit before going to bed. Nothing too much came up, except Dad's passion lately has been doing the family tree. From what I can tell it seems like this is a thing a lot of people become interested in later in life. Kind of an exploration into where we come from and that sort of thing. Should be harmless, but he really takes it seriously. And more than trying to find out stories of people, or just getting the dates of their birth and death, Dad's trying to figure out where they are all buried. And then visit them. When we left, he gave us directions and maps to all the people's graves he's found so far. I don't know, maybe this is normal, but it was really macabre.
Thursday is when the weird ratched up a bit. I got up and my sister was already in and we all sat down for breakfast. Mostly harmless chit chat, except my sister brought up my mother. Which shouldn't be a big deal, but there we were talking quickly about Christmas gift ideas for her, in my father's home, infront of him and his woman-friend. I didn't even realize I'd been speaking in hushed tones until the subject changed and I started talking to my dad. They've been divorced for something like 5 years now, but I'm still not used to it. I mean, I'm used to it in that I know I'm not going to see one when I see the other. And I know they're never getting back together, that's not the issue. It's just that my brain does not split them apart the way that divorce has. When I see my Dad, I think of my mother. But when I'm with him now, I know I shouldn't think of my mother, so I feel strange. And I don't know how to deal with that, so I deal with it rather awkwardly.
But everyone seems comfortable ingnoring the awkwardness. So, that's what we do. It's what we've always done.
The day picked up a little when we went to pick up my Grandmother from the retirement home she lives in. I hadn't seen her in four years or so. She's 94 now and her health has been steadily declining. She's now confined to a wheelchair and has a hard time talking and hearing. It's really hard to get her in and out of the car, because she has so much trouble moving. Which is hard to see. She used to be so full of energy, but she's still very sweet. And we had a nice little talk. I think she really liked meeting Dinah.
And I think by the time we got back, people started arriving, which was great. My dad's family (and I guess my family) is full of some really nice, fun people. And the Thanksgiving meal itself was pretty good. The food was solid. The conversation was nice. It was very pleasant. I caught up with some cousins and an aunt and uncle. Yeah. Good times.
After dinner, my dad asked if I would help him take Grandma back to the home, which I was a little nervous about. It meant time alone with my father. I have not been alone with my father since the divorce. But, I agreed. If our relationship is going to get any better, I'm going to have to not be afraid to see my dad without the protection of a crowd. This theory works fine, in theory.
It was a quiet ride out to the home. Short little chit chat, as we were both probably feeling out the situation. But, on the ride back to his place, I decided to try to open up a bit. He asked a little about law school and grades and such. I bitched a little about the lack of feedback of law school and how I want to do well, but don't know that I will. I told him how I would like to get into criminal defense or somewhere in public interest law. Maybe I'd even open my own firm someday.
And he was just quiet. He said I would not necessarily need the best grades for those goals and that I set goals for myself that are really high. I sat there trying to decide if he was really telling me I shouldn't set high goals, and I shouldn't feel the need to push. Was he really telling me I should settle for less than I feel I can accomplish? And it was awkward. I guess I was comfortable ignoring the awkwardness, because that's what I did.
I tried to talk a little more about it, but it kind of became clear he had no real interest in it, and the topic was dropped. I don't know. He had to have known it was awkward. He had to feel my dissappointment. But something about this conversation had made him uncomfortable. And the Ambrosons deal with discomfort by seeking quiet, and by turning inward. Or maybe he didn't realize this was me opening up. I can't be sure. But either way, this was the point where I decided I didn't need to hide myself in order to make him comfortable.
When we got home and most everyone had left, we started talking about baseball. It's an innocuous enough topic, except when there is tension. My father and I are both St. Louis Cardinal fans who were disappointed with the way the past season turned out. But we both take a different look at baseball--me being more in tune with the moneyball, statistical analysis and him being more old school. So, when we talked about the Cardinals letting David Eckstein** go and the new baseball statistics, it's no surprise that we disagreed. What was a little surprising was how entrenched he seemed to be in his position. We used to give a little ground and leave room for the other's position, but not so much this time. When we were talking about WAR***, he scoffed saying, "well, it's easy to see that Albert Pujols is more valuable than Chris Duncan." Which is a true enough statement, but seems to intentionally miss the point I was making.
And for the rest of the visit, this is how it was. He'd make some know-it-all statement**** and I'd just nod to myself and let it go, because it was awkward, and I guess I'm just more comfortable letting it go than arguing about it.
And breakfast the next day was just painful. Throughout the visit, I got to see my father and his woman-friend be playful with each other. Which is, you know, good. For them. I try not to think too much about it, but it bothers me watching them be playful. It's probably not just for show, but the play fighting and cute in-jokes come off really fake to me. And it could be that I'm just biased about this. It could be that right now, wherever they are, they're doing the same stuff, but man. I can't deal with it. It just feels like it's all being done to show me how happy they are. And I don't doubt they're happy. They've been together for 5 or 6 years, and they've both sacrificed a lot to make their relationship happen and work. So, I hope they're happy.
But it's awkward. It's really awkward. And it's really going to be better if we do not ignore it.
I know the problems we're dealing with are large and come from more than just his actions around his divorce from my mom. We're talking about tensions that come from my not unconditionally accepting his new relationship, from his insecurity around me possibly being more successful than he is, from my desire to please my father and how angry it makes me that this is my default position, and so much more. So, I don't know that this is ever going to be something we can fix. I don't know if it's worth it for me to even try. And I really don't know if he notices, or cares, or would be willing to put in the work that would be needed. But, I have got to figure out what it is I need from him, and what it is I am willing to settle for. Maybe this is as good as it is going to get.
Either way, I'm happy I'm back in St. Paul, working on getting my life where I want it to be.
*Note 1. Contracts = argh.
**Note 2. Eckstein was a good Cardinal, but I am of the belief that he was continually overrated, usually by people who love to call him "scrappy". He was solid, but not amazing.
***Note 3. Win Above Replacement. A really helpful statistic that helps value a player compared to a statistically average player.
****Note 4. My two favorites? When we were going by Interstate 229, his woman-friend asked what we called these types of roads, he responded, "Well, it's not technically an interstate or a freeway, so I guess it's just a highway." Huh? And the second, "The piano is a percussion instrument."
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