My Father's Graven Image

Once, on visiting my parent's house, I found my mother working with some old boxes of photographs.

They were all from the early sixties - from the early days of my parent's relationship. In them, my mother is (I hesitate to say it) beautiful. She's thin and blonde and smiles like a sphinx with the head of Farrah Fawcet.

My father, on the other hand, is the dorkiest creature to ever pour himself into a pair of sideburns.

And what sideburns! They are like the eyebrows of a giant!

He looks like a contest winner who cut out enough UPCs from Boyslife Magazine to get to meet a real live girl. Actually, in this particular photo I'm remembering, he looks like the contest winner who won the chance to meet the girl, but really wanted the hovercraft made from a vaccum cleaner motor.

I laughed and laughed. I asked my father what kind of mickey he slipped her to get her to go out with him.

"What do you mean?" asked my father, in reply.

"I mean," said I, "Did you take a correspondence course in hypnotism or something? How on earth did you convince this girl to go out with you. Look at yourself!"

My father leaned over and looked at the photo.

"What sort of thing is that to say?" he asked me, his brow furrowed.

"C'mon," I said, widening my eyes and slumping my shoulders, "No way were you good looking enough to go out with a girl like this. What was Mom thinking?"

My father grew angry. Not smirk and roll your eyes and snort with derision angry, but actual, honest to god, hate you angry. He told me that was a terrible thing to say and that he didn't understand why I'd say something like that. He huffed off to the den to watch television.

He wouldn't speak to me for two days.

I wish to everything I hold dear that I had a scan of that photo to include here. Maybe one day I can pilfer it and upload it to this blog. Check back from time to time.

But all of this is just a way of imploring, through metaphor, any who should happen to read this blog to never, ever, explain to my father what a blog is, how to find one on the internet, or that his son has one in which he figures sporadically.

He would not understand.