A few weeks ago I was looking through the photos on your phone (I'm sorry for the invasion of privacy). Scrolling through, I came across a video and pressed play. You had filmed a couple of deer standing on the golf course. They weren't doing anything, just standing there looking regal, and you shot a little video of them. Watching this, I thought, my Dad was the sort of man who saw a couple of deer in the middle of his golf game and stopped to watch them, to appreciate their beauty and grace. So many people refer to deer as pests, complain about overpopulation, but I just think they are so regal, so amazing to see. And of course you did too, that's the kind of man you were.
It's true that your ideas of the world come from your parents, at least in the beginning. And I'm so grateful that my idea of masculinity was shaped by a man who stopped to film the deer on a sunny day on the golf course. By a man who dressed sharply and was not afraid to wear a pink dress shirt, or a deep purple crew neck sweater. A man who did not differentiate between gay and straight in his dealings with people. Someone who never objectified women, who refrained from crass remarks, who was kind and friendly and helpful. A man who used people's first names and looked them in the eye, who tipped well and always said please and thank you. A father who took us to the opera, and the philharmonic, who loved animals and wept the day we had to put the dog to sleep.
You could fix anything, worked your way through law school as a plumber, knew how to change a flat tire, occasionally liked to watch sports, had a garage full of tools and were good with electronics and installing air conditioners, but you didn't fit the stereotype of "male" beyond these things. You never yelled and I don't think you had a violent bone in your body. When we were kids, sometimes you would crack your belt, pretending you would hit us with it if we didn't get in line. We would always laugh hysterically, as the idea of you hitting us was so outrageously out of the realm of possibility.
There was a party we used to go to every year and this one guy who was always there was really obnoxious, really crass. None of us liked him, but because he was sort of misogynist and a "guy's guy" he didn't bother too much with me or Mom or Megan. He did, however, talk to you. And on several occasions I heard him make a remark to you -- something crass or obnoxious -- and I would think how on earth is he going to handle this? And you know what? You never once laughed along to be polite or go with the flow. You would just sort of ignore him and move on. You had strength of character and then some, this guy could have learned a thing or two from you. The only time I can remember you responding to him is when he made some derogatory comment about animal lovers. You looked at him very seriously and said "you are talking to a man who loves his three cats very much."
It took me a very long time to understand that men and women are not actually equal. I thought feminism was something that had come along, solved women's problems, and was over. This is because I grew up in an isolated environment, sure, but it's also because you and Mom never treated Megan and I any differently because we were female. You played sports with us, sent us to tennis camp, expected us to do well and to exceed in school, to succeed to the same extent that a man would in everything we did. There was never a single thing said or implied to make me think that I somehow deserved less or something different because I was a woman. What a gift this was.
love you, Dad. Thanks for setting such a good example.
It's true that your ideas of the world come from your parents, at least in the beginning. And I'm so grateful that my idea of masculinity was shaped by a man who stopped to film the deer on a sunny day on the golf course. By a man who dressed sharply and was not afraid to wear a pink dress shirt, or a deep purple crew neck sweater. A man who did not differentiate between gay and straight in his dealings with people. Someone who never objectified women, who refrained from crass remarks, who was kind and friendly and helpful. A man who used people's first names and looked them in the eye, who tipped well and always said please and thank you. A father who took us to the opera, and the philharmonic, who loved animals and wept the day we had to put the dog to sleep.
You could fix anything, worked your way through law school as a plumber, knew how to change a flat tire, occasionally liked to watch sports, had a garage full of tools and were good with electronics and installing air conditioners, but you didn't fit the stereotype of "male" beyond these things. You never yelled and I don't think you had a violent bone in your body. When we were kids, sometimes you would crack your belt, pretending you would hit us with it if we didn't get in line. We would always laugh hysterically, as the idea of you hitting us was so outrageously out of the realm of possibility.
There was a party we used to go to every year and this one guy who was always there was really obnoxious, really crass. None of us liked him, but because he was sort of misogynist and a "guy's guy" he didn't bother too much with me or Mom or Megan. He did, however, talk to you. And on several occasions I heard him make a remark to you -- something crass or obnoxious -- and I would think how on earth is he going to handle this? And you know what? You never once laughed along to be polite or go with the flow. You would just sort of ignore him and move on. You had strength of character and then some, this guy could have learned a thing or two from you. The only time I can remember you responding to him is when he made some derogatory comment about animal lovers. You looked at him very seriously and said "you are talking to a man who loves his three cats very much."
It took me a very long time to understand that men and women are not actually equal. I thought feminism was something that had come along, solved women's problems, and was over. This is because I grew up in an isolated environment, sure, but it's also because you and Mom never treated Megan and I any differently because we were female. You played sports with us, sent us to tennis camp, expected us to do well and to exceed in school, to succeed to the same extent that a man would in everything we did. There was never a single thing said or implied to make me think that I somehow deserved less or something different because I was a woman. What a gift this was.
love you, Dad. Thanks for setting such a good example.
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