Father's Day means many things to many people and I think that is because Fathers come in many shapes, sizes, guises and demeanors. My relationship with the concept of the word Father is a complex one, not complicated but complex. You see I am neither a biological father nor did I grow up knowing my biological father. My history might make me somewhat unique. It might give me a perspective on fatherhood that fosters an insight that few others have but does that really matter? It's what I know. It's my reality. There are others whose knowledge of fatherhood comes with a story outside the normal. There is the so named "step" Father and in many families the step means nothing at all. Many uncles step into the roll of father and for those kids uncle is father indeed. And how many single mothers' best friend takes on the mantle of father? What really makes a father?
When I was young I didn't know my father Raymond all that well because he was so dedicated to the welfare of our family he worked so much. He was often out the door by 5 am and not home until almost midnight. As life got more financially stable Daddy was around much more and with this additional time to spend together we got to know each other and our bond grew very strong. Now Daddy was very handy but I didn't pickup his mechanical prowess though my love for gardening is all because of him. His roses and dahlias were astounding, his knowledge of shrubs and trees was encyclopedic and I defy anyone to come up with a summer's treat tastier and more sensual than taking a salt shaker into the garden to feast on a sun warmed, freshly plucked tomato. My Daddy was always supportive and proud of me even when in my early forty's I came out to him because I too wanted to become a father with my loving partner Lee hoping for my father's approval and acceptance. I never should have even questioned.
Still all my life something in the back of my mind was always nagging at me, I mean something more than my own homosexuality. I didn't look anything like my four siblings, I seemed to be treated differently than them, no not in a bad way, hardly in a bad way at all just somehow different. I even remember asking my oldest sister if I was adopted. It wasn't until my own daughter was born that the answer to this nagging question came. Mother had been dead for nearly 5 years and I was for some reason alone at our house in the country. I received a phone call from my brother who told me a man who claimed to be my "real" father tracked him down and wanted to connect with me. Of course I gave him permission to divulge my telephone number to this man. Minutes later the phone rang. "Hello, is this Rick?" "Yes" I answered. Rick this is Mike so-and-so and I'm certain that I am your real father". We talked for a few minutes, him telling about the affair with my Mother and that he had always loved her. Then came "the" question. "Can I ask you a question?" "Yes". "Are you gay?" "Yes" I responded "why do you ask?" "I can tell by your voice." My knees buckled, his arrow had hit my Achilles heel. In school I had always been teased that I "talked like a girl". I remained silent as he went on to tell me that he had a granddaughter who was gay and he had disowned her because he did not approve of such a "lifestyle". Still he proceeded, he was dying and because he had loved my Mother so much he wanted to leave me some money. Still stunned, anger and rage building at the audacity of this man came my retort: "I have no idea who you are but Raymond Shaver is my Father and always has been and another thing you are not half the man he is." I slammed down the telephone receiver and sat in silence picking up all the pieces then putting them together.
My own chance at fatherhood had come some short time before that enlightening phone call. 25 years ago, after a few years of trying to adopt on July 1st, against our lawyer's advice, Lee and I boarded a flight to San Antonio, Texas. Emmy's Birth Mother had requested we be with her at the birth. Our lawyer was strongly opposed to this idea citing how devastating it would be should the mother back out at the last minute. Still we had promised and so we went. July 4th was the due date but doctors valuing golfing and vacation over nature induced labor on July 2nd. It was an agonizing day. Watching and waiting. Finally the doctor decided it best to discontinue the oxytocin given to stimulate the contractions and speed the labor and subsequent birth. Lee and I retreated to our hotel with anxiety and expectation still running high. At six am the next morning we received a call that they were going to induce labor once again and we should come to the hospital, oh and by the way, the mother would like us to bring a six-pack of Dr. Pepper. Laughter added levity.
Nurses and the doctor came and went and finally at 11:20 Central Time our daughter Emmy was born. I always describe it as if she swam out of the womb, eyes wide open looking like a very agile dolphin. When I asked the nurse if I could hold her she answered, "Of course you can. She's your daughter". I burst into tears. The rest is history and what a wonderful history it's been. There has been no greater blessing in my life than becoming a father and Lee and I celebrate Father's Day every day of our lives knowing how lucky we are to be dads.
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