Pulp Fiction came out in 1994 back when a $5 shake was pretty pricey. Well, before I went to see my dad last Saturday I stopped and bought him a chocolate shake at a nearby ice cream shop. Damned if it wasn’t close to $5 too - for a small. I had to taste it and I’ll be damned if it wasn’t really good. I don’t know if it was worth $5 but it was thick, creamy and very rich. I had to stop myself from sucking down too much.
I try to pick up little things for dad when I visit. Sometimes it’s a magazine (history or WWII), sometimes it’s some candy or a shake.
Surprisingly dad was back in his room watching the Chiefs - New England football game when I came in. As far back as I can remember my dad never sat down and watched a football game . . . ever. I know he played football and baseball as a kid but as an adult he sure didn’t watch any. Come to think of it he never played catch with us either. What the hell dad?!
My memories of dad when I was a kid are of him being gone a lot. He was an Army officer and at times he’d be gone for a year or two at a stretch. When he was in Viet Nam in the early 60s (Kennedy sent him) he sent tapes back home so we could talk to each other. I still remember when I was in the 1st grade standing by the stairs with my brothers, sister and mom listening to one tape in particular where he talked about having to shoot the enemy.
He was also part of a small contingent of Army officer’s (U.S. & Aussie I think) that went to Ethiopia in the early 60’s where they met the Emperor Haile Selassie and trained the Ethiopian military. 
For most of my youth we lived on or near military bases. When dad would come home he’d usually sit in his chair, holding a lit cigarette, his jacket off & his tie loosened, reading the local paper, the Stars & Stipes or a Time magazine. Not a lot of warm fuzzies. He was the provider.
Dad was an only child. His mother died from encephalitis when he was young. They thought she was loosing her mind as she started to behave strangely, taking off her clothes and such. He had a hard childhood. He grew up in the depression’s tough times and he did what he had to do to survive.
Like all of us, dad’s environment shaped him. To some extent it controls all of us. When my father saw friends killed in WWII, he made the decision to withdraw and not allow himself to get close to fellow soldiers. I think to some extent it carried over to family too. We all do what we can to survive but sometimes what we think is protecting us, is actually hurting us.
Depression makes me understand why my dad reacted to the horrors of war by withdrawing. The black dog battle field is littered with casualties and in the interest of self-preservation we withdraw from the pain. Withdraw from life.
When gradchildren first came, my dad’s stern veneer started to soften. It was bitter-sweet. I was very happy to see him interact with my kids but a little sad that it couldn’t have been me too. Once the momentum picked up with other grandchildren he was a different man. He’d discovered that life’s greatest pleasures come with risks.
It’s the same with depression. It’s natural to withdraw but it doesn’t help the situation, it hurts it. Friends, family, lovers, etc. often start pulling away in response. The black dog responds by withdrawing even more (if that’s possible).
When I was in the T.L.C. program one of the unexpected benefits came from the group therapy. I’d not given much thought to discussing my problems with strangers but it turned out to be a very powerful thing. Just finding out that I wasn’t alone in what I was going through made a big difference. So my advice today is to take some risks. Stop withdrawing and share yourself. Do more with friends and family. Maybe even join a support group for people with depression. There’s power in numbers.
Pulp Fiction came out in 1994 back when a $5 shake was pretty pricey. Well, before I went to see my dad last Saturday I stopped and bought him a chocolate shake at a nearby ice cream shop. Damned if it wasn’t close to $5 too - for a small. I had to taste it and I’ll be damned if it wasn’t really good. I don’t know if it was worth $5 but it was thick, creamy and very rich. I had to stop myself from sucking down too much.
I try to pick up little things for dad when I visit. Sometimes it’s a magazine (history or WWII), sometimes it’s some candy or a shake.
Surprisingly dad was back in his room watching the Chiefs - New England football game when I came in. As far back as I can remember my dad never sat down and watched a football game . . . ever. I know he played football and baseball as a kid but as an adult he sure didn’t watch any. Come to think of it he never played catch with us either. What the hell dad?!
My memories of dad when I was a kid are of him being gone a lot. He was an Army officer and at times he’d be gone for a year or two at a stretch. When he was in Viet Nam in the early 60s (Kennedy sent him) he sent tapes back home so we could talk to each other. I still remember when I was in the 1st grade standing by the stairs with my brothers, sister and mom listening to one tape in particular where he talked about having to shoot the enemy.
He was also part of a small contingent of Army officer’s (U.S. & Aussie I think) that went to Ethiopia in the early 60’s where they met the Emperor Haile Selassie and trained the Ethiopian military.
For most of my youth we lived on or near military bases. When dad would come home he’d usually sit in his chair, holding a lit cigarette, his jacket off & his tie loosened, reading the local paper, the Stars & Stipes or a Time magazine. Not a lot of warm fuzzies. He was the provider.
Dad was an only child. His mother died from encephalitis when he was young. They thought she was loosing her mind as she started to behave strangely, taking off her clothes and such. He had a hard childhood. He grew up in the depression’s tough times and he did what he had to do to survive.
Like all of us, dad’s environment shaped him. To some extent it controls all of us. When my father saw friends killed in WWII, he made the decision to withdraw and not allow himself to get close to fellow soldiers. I think to some extent it carried over to family too. We all do what we can to survive but sometimes what we think is protecting us, is actually hurting us.
Depression makes me understand why my dad reacted to the horrors of war by withdrawing. The black dog battle field is littered with casualties and in the interest of self-preservation we withdraw from the pain. Withdraw from life.
When gradchildren first came, my dad’s stern veneer started to soften. It was bitter-sweet. I was very happy to see him interact with my kids but a little sad that it couldn’t have been me too. Once the momentum picked up with other grandchildren he was a different man. He’d discovered that life’s greatest pleasures come with risks.
It’s the same with depression. It’s natural to withdraw but it doesn’t help the situation, it hurts it. Friends, family, lovers, etc. often start pulling away in response. The black dog responds by withdrawing even more (if that’s possible).
When I was in the T.L.C. program one of the unexpected benefits came from the group therapy. I’d not given much thought to discussing my problems with strangers but it turned out to be a very powerful thing. Just finding out that I wasn’t alone in what I was going through made a big difference. So my advice today is to take some risks. Stop withdrawing and share yourself. Do more with friends and family. Maybe even join a support group for people with depression. There’s power in numbers.