Adventure 494: The Story of George

Birthday Boys

George turned 88 yesterday. We had a party of ten at his party (Also, son Tom's birthday). The group included his three remaining children, Vina, grandson Steve and his crew (Bonnie, Emily, Sarah). He seemed happy and healthy. If it weren't for his advancing dementia, he'd be a marvel at his age. The good part for us is that it gets me, Tom and Judy together, no mean feat considering Judy lives in Japan. The interesting thing in our discussions is the the relationship we have with our father. At best he was absent during our formative years, and I've often (Too bitterly, I suppose) referred to him as a mere sperm donor. Nonetheless, he is the "father" and there's something sacred about that position. And as my sister Judy says, "I'm here mostly for selfish reasons. I don't want to think that I didn't try hard enough to have a relationship with my father." We've discovered that he's given each of us a little something of himself, but none of us got a full commitment. For her part, Judy was a toddler when our father and mother split, so George, in truth, has had very little contact with her. But like me, she believes that we either have a relationship with our parents, or we want one. She wistfully recalls her wish to have her three boys develop a bond with their grandfather. Twenty-five years ago, when her own boys were rambunctious toddlers, she brought them to the United States for the first time. She had this idea that she would spend time with George and Margaret. It was the romantic notion that maybe George would act like a grandfather. It wasn't to be. Somewhere halfway through the week there was a falling out, which ended up with Judy, her husband and her boys leaving earlier. She didn't speak with George for a decade after that. Myself, I have a jumble of mixed feelings that revolve around tradition, duty, a little romance, and that same notion that I don't want to come to the end of the road feeling like I didn't try. It's both enlightening and taxing to share perspectives with my siblings. It bubbles up old wounds like the puss that festers from infection. Maybe the purge is good, but mostly it conjures emotions that shimmy the back of my spine in a sort of tension reminiscent of tightening the rubber band on a balsa wood airplane. The good news, like I said, is that it gives us siblings a chance to connect, which now that our mother is gone, seems harder to do. This is just to say that in that vein, life is good especially today.

 Having my siblings visit was another excuse to fire up the pizza oven.

 George, a man with a sweet tooth, digs into his birthday banana split.

Tim, George, Judy, Tom