Some people I just don't get

Have you ever wondered why people act the way they do? No, I'm not trying to sound like the late Andy Rooney from "Sixty Minutes". I know some people like to people watch, but this is something a little more involved. This has been something that has always fascinated me every since I can remember. It's easy to develop the wrong opinion of someone. It is even easier when you don't stop to investigate. When you want to get to know why someone is who they are, you have to ask questions, weigh evidence, ask eyewitnesses, and pay attention. Some people are pretty easy to get. You examine the life they have lived. You examine the influences and the conditions in their life. You learn what was important to them and how that affected them. For example, you can take a favorite actor, athlete, musician, author, etc. You can read up on them, listen to interviews, and all kinds of other things. If they're famous, there is probably more information than you really need. Now what about a regular person. If you want to know about them, you ask questions. Most of us have developed friendships and relationship by getting to know each other. It involves work. It also involves disclosure. There are some things that you don't share with someone the very first time you meet them. As you develop trust, you allow yourself to share things about yourself and hopefully the other person trusts you to do the same. I know I probably sound like a stalker. Relax, I'm not. Just look out your window right now and I'll gladly smile and wave right back. Just kidding, I'm at your neighbor's house instead. Don't worry. We're just talking about what you were doing last week.

Dave age 11

Some people I know that I'll never be able to figure out. One person is my dad. I remember people saying what a great guy he was and how he did such and such. The way they talked about him lead me to believe that he had a twin brother. Either that or he was a double agent. He was more of a chameleon. He would change with whatever was happening. Maybe he was bipolar, I really don't know. He had some weird ways of parenting though. I would really like to believe that it was some how related to his upbringing, but I'll never know. He just wouldn't let people to get to really know him. He put on a good front, but the charade couldn't last forever. He lived with some weird people too. Some were weird in a goofy, cool kind of way. Others were just bizarre. It seemed like between the time he left my mom and met Sheelah, we had many roommates. There was Ron and Rabbit and their kids that I talked about earlier. There was some dude named Phil who I found out years later was "Gay Phil". At least that's how Sheelah always would refer to him.  There were a few nameless others and we also lived with family members. My dad had some issues. He was always trying to impress people with his mechanical knowledge and expertise. He never really learn to just be himself. He also had control issues. When I was younger, the only real interaction I had with him was when I was either getting spanked with the belt or getting thumped on the chest. I'm not talking being punished for "the crime". He would just start right away. Temper full bore. Red faced. The works. The chest thumps were the worst. He'd pick me up and shove me against the wall and drive his index and middle fingers into my breastbone. I was about the size in the above picture. He was about 190lbs and very strong. He had weird punishment ideas too.When Robert was little, he liked to whine. Most kids whine. Sorry, but there are whiners. Robert would do things to get his way and I'd say "Baby Robert always gets his way." Well, Robert would cry and carry on. I'd get sent to my room. One day, my dad came up with one of his "brilliant" ideas. The next time I called Robert a baby, I'd have to wear a diaper. Well, it happened. I called Robert a baby and punishment was wearing a towel like a diaper. My dad took a Polaroid of it and set it up on the mantle. Whatever. He enjoyed belittling people or getting people to see his side of things. He was very good at both.  Growing up I was always the first person up and would have to wake up everyone else. I would have to wake up my dad. He had an alarm clock, but he always depended upon me to wake him up. I was told the exact time to wake him up and when the time came it was always the same. "mumble, mumble five more effing minutes!!!" I'd go back to getting myself ready for school and then when Robert went to school, helping him get ready. Five minutes came and went. Sometimes we just went for fifteen. I'd go back and check on him and tell him it was time to get up. He'd mumble some more. After doing the "five more minutes" thing a couple of times, I would finally tell him that he needed to get up. He'd ask what the time was and then he'd go crazy. "WHY THE $%&%^** DIDN'T YOU WAKE ME SOONER?!?!?!"

 Then he'd jump out of bed and storm around the house. He kept telling me that he was going get fired because I let him sleep too long and a bunch of other things that were my fault. Those were some great days! Made me feel like a real winner I tell you. In case you were wondering Sheelah was asleep. She usually worked double or splits at the hospital as a nurse. Some days, she'd get wake up with my dad carrying on. He'd then take credit for getting Robert ready for school and bragging on himself.  She knew the truth, but didn't say anything. 

Getting a ride to school with my dad was never a boring time. Maybe I should say a ride to a place close to the school.  He'd complain about how horrible his life was. Everything his marriage, his job, EVERYTHING was bad. Then  I committed the worst sin known to man. I asked for lunch money. He'd pull a dollar or two out of his wallet. Roll each one into a ball and throw it in my face, cuss me out and tell me that now he would just go without lunch. A few times I just left the money on the seat and slammed the door. That same night, he'd have me go with him to the store and he'd pull out out a big wad of cash. I remember thinking to myself, "no money, huh?". I'm not sure when the chest pokes and the violent spankings stopped. The last time it happened, I went crazy. I didn't even know why he was doing this again. He would just snap and take his aggression out on me. Something inside me snapped too. I started swinging with everything thing I had. I didn't care if he killed me. I just wanted this little "dance" to stop. I landed a hit or two to his jaw and on to his ears before he could push away and retreat. That was really the beginning of end. After this he'd challenge me from time to time. "You want to fight me? Are you man enough" He'd just laugh. There was no way I could take him. I tried to respect him for being my dad, but it was hard. As a young kid, I remember hating my dad so much that I thought about stabbing him in his sleep. The only thing that stopped me was fear of jail time. I have honestly tried reconciling the past with him on a few occasions, but he doesn't want it. Why would he? He never did anything wrong. When I bring it up, there is a change in subject.
A couple of times in my early twenties, we went out to dinner to have a man to man talk. Just me and him. One time he tried to share his wisdom with me. I told him that I was getting married. Rather than being happy for me, he suggested that I shouldn't rush into it. He recommended just living together for a while. His excuse was that he'd been married and divorced a couple of times. His dad had been married a couple of times and so had his grandfather. It was in the cards. Don't do it. Do make the same mistake that he had made. I looked him in the eye and said, "No. I'm not you. We're getting married". That was the end of dinner. I've been married for 26 years and its been great. Dad doesn't know best.