My dad is a good man in disguise.
At least, all the people who know me, and keep asking me how my dad's doing, cuz they're praying for his salvation, and for his healing, and for his family...... all those people would never guess what a good man he is, or has become, or didn't used to be. I know they see his long scraggly hair and dirty torn jeans as some sort of indication of his inner condition. They hear him cuss and crack crude jokes and think that his sense of humour somehow exempts him from the reaches of salvation.
My dad lives with his family on a small piece of property in a mostly deserted little town, in what he refers to as the last frontier of manitoba. There are five people living in the house that is constantly being changed and built on to. My dad, his wife, my two brothers, and his wife's sister, who he constantly refers to as his second wife (with a wink and a poke in the ribs, to whoever's nearest)
Rosie is married and has three kids of her own, and the entire family was planning on packing up and moving to Moose Jaw where her husband "had a job lined up." However, after she had quit her job and he had gambled away the rent, he told her that she wasn't coming with them, and he wanted to split. So homeless and familyless Rosie came to live at my dad's house with the rest of that half of my family.
I think that most men might complain about that.... at least most men with a temperament like my dad's...... always with something to rant about. But as it turns out, he treats her just like one of the family. Not just by giving her a roof over her head, but sitting outside with her for coffee, talking to her about her kids, joking around with her, getting protective and pissed off whenever her jackass husband pops into the conversation.
It's been my experience that you can't just throw people into a house together and expect them to love each other, even if they are family members. Why do I think it's such a beautiful thing to see, my family...... the sort of family that can't spare anything yet will always take someone in who needs a place, the sort of family who always makes enough supper for those who might drop by. The sort of family you wouldn't expect to find behind the peeling paint and the battered cars.
Rosie is a wonderful person, and I enjoy having her around. She acts as a neutral personality when my dad and stepmom's extreme temperaments get out of control. She's so open and honest and accepting and in the times that I've spent just sitting and talking with her, drinking coffee on the deck, joking around in the living room, I've really grown to love her, and I'll certainly miss her when she finds a place to stay.
After getting off the phone with her husband, Rosie expressed deep concern for her teenage daughter, who was threatening to run away and wanted to come back to Manitoba. Her and my dad were discussing the situation when I overheard this remark, spoken louder since my dad was beginning to get excited, "Your kids aren't having trouble because they're teenagers. It's because they don't have two parents in the house!" He went on to say some other stuff which I recognized as truth, but I couldn't help but smile to myself.
I think sometimes my dad forgets that he was once a negligent father, although most of the time he seems painfully aware of it. I think he might think that just because I never got into trouble, the divorce didn't affect me as much as it seems to affect other kids. He talks about me, even when I'm in the room, as some sort of exceptional, invincible individual, able to accomplish anything I wish and capable of withstanding any beating the world might throw my way.
Not invincible. Perhaps the rest is true. I suppose we'll see.
At least, all the people who know me, and keep asking me how my dad's doing, cuz they're praying for his salvation, and for his healing, and for his family...... all those people would never guess what a good man he is, or has become, or didn't used to be. I know they see his long scraggly hair and dirty torn jeans as some sort of indication of his inner condition. They hear him cuss and crack crude jokes and think that his sense of humour somehow exempts him from the reaches of salvation.
My dad lives with his family on a small piece of property in a mostly deserted little town, in what he refers to as the last frontier of manitoba. There are five people living in the house that is constantly being changed and built on to. My dad, his wife, my two brothers, and his wife's sister, who he constantly refers to as his second wife (with a wink and a poke in the ribs, to whoever's nearest)
Rosie is married and has three kids of her own, and the entire family was planning on packing up and moving to Moose Jaw where her husband "had a job lined up." However, after she had quit her job and he had gambled away the rent, he told her that she wasn't coming with them, and he wanted to split. So homeless and familyless Rosie came to live at my dad's house with the rest of that half of my family.
I think that most men might complain about that.... at least most men with a temperament like my dad's...... always with something to rant about. But as it turns out, he treats her just like one of the family. Not just by giving her a roof over her head, but sitting outside with her for coffee, talking to her about her kids, joking around with her, getting protective and pissed off whenever her jackass husband pops into the conversation.
It's been my experience that you can't just throw people into a house together and expect them to love each other, even if they are family members. Why do I think it's such a beautiful thing to see, my family...... the sort of family that can't spare anything yet will always take someone in who needs a place, the sort of family who always makes enough supper for those who might drop by. The sort of family you wouldn't expect to find behind the peeling paint and the battered cars.
Rosie is a wonderful person, and I enjoy having her around. She acts as a neutral personality when my dad and stepmom's extreme temperaments get out of control. She's so open and honest and accepting and in the times that I've spent just sitting and talking with her, drinking coffee on the deck, joking around in the living room, I've really grown to love her, and I'll certainly miss her when she finds a place to stay.
After getting off the phone with her husband, Rosie expressed deep concern for her teenage daughter, who was threatening to run away and wanted to come back to Manitoba. Her and my dad were discussing the situation when I overheard this remark, spoken louder since my dad was beginning to get excited, "Your kids aren't having trouble because they're teenagers. It's because they don't have two parents in the house!" He went on to say some other stuff which I recognized as truth, but I couldn't help but smile to myself.
I think sometimes my dad forgets that he was once a negligent father, although most of the time he seems painfully aware of it. I think he might think that just because I never got into trouble, the divorce didn't affect me as much as it seems to affect other kids. He talks about me, even when I'm in the room, as some sort of exceptional, invincible individual, able to accomplish anything I wish and capable of withstanding any beating the world might throw my way.
Not invincible. Perhaps the rest is true. I suppose we'll see.
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