Dad

You know, it occurs to me that the most pathetic human being out there is the shithead who, despite his comfortable middle or upper class upbringing, grows up to be a loser who blames his father for all of his own personal failings.  I’m not talking about the run-of-the-mill teenager who rebels by getting a tattoo and nosering, either; I’m talking about the ones who really mean it.  One time, I saw a hilarious photoshop on the internet of some slacker at an antiwar demonstration.  The slogan on his sign – probably something real profound like “Bush=Hitler” – was digitally replaced with “I hate my FATHER and MYSELF.”  I thought that was funny as shit because it was probably true. 
 
That’s why I don’t really like complaining about Dad; I don’t want to be that guy.  The problem though is I DO feel like him whenever I vent about Dad like I’ve done a few times here lately.
 
I mention this because Dad and I had a long conversation this morning that has left me somewhat speechless.  I won’t go into all of it, but I will say that he very nicely and humbly apologized to me.  He said he was sorry for surrounding me with (as he puts it) “losers and thieves” in San Antonio.  He also said that he regrets not having listened to me on those occasions when I tried to tell him about the problems in San Antonio.  He admitted that he simply didn’t want to hear what I had to say and found it easier to dismiss me rather than listen. 
 
Wow.  If there is one man in the world who hates the taste of crow, it’s our father.  For him to have done that must have like eating a big one too, feathers and all. 
 
I thanked him, accepted his apology and told him that he and I were okay.  I told him that I hold no grudges because the way I saw it, even if he had surrounded me with the whole Centex “A-Team” it wouldn’t have made any difference.  People in San Antonio just weren’t – and still aren’t – buying.  And as for the “losers and thieves,” I told him that I was blameworthy too as I hired a lot of them.  I thought Ben, Michael and Bill were the greatest things since sliced bread when I hired them and they all proved to be shitheads in the end. 
 
So I told Dad that I was chalking the whole thing up to experience.  We all went into this thing with the best of intentions, but we’re all grownups, too.  I thought I’d be successful working for him.  Hell, I expected to be successful.  But I know there are no guarantees in life. 
 
This is the last word I will have to say about this.  I am through bitching about it.  The simple truth is this: I gave it my best shot for Dad but, in the end, I just couldn’t crack the nut.  But even though I’m not happy about failing, I’m not ashamed of myself - nor am I angry at Dad - anymore.