father's day

My dad just called me today. He rarely ever calls me. I was surprised when I saw his number on my caller ID.

I don’t really have a great relationship with my father. I love him and I know he loves me. That alone is more of a relationship than I know some of my friends have with their fathers, so I am appreciative.

But that really is the extent of our relationship.

When we moved back to Korea, my father took the role of provider very seriously. He always worked. His career really consumed his life. Six nights a week, he was at business meetings or job related functions. If he came home early, he usually just watched tv.

We hardly talked. He never knew what was going on in my life. He knew the big stuff, like school, but if you asked him who my friends were or what I enjoyed doing or what dreams and aspirations were, I’m not sure if he would’ve had the faintest what those answers were.

When I told him recently that I didn’t enjoy programming and I wanted to be a writer, I think that was the first time he even knew I loved to write.

Because I had such a minimal relationship with my father, I always sought for his approval. I chose my major because it was what he did and I knew that he would be happy knowing his son was following in his footsteps. I went to Purdue because that was where he wanted me to go among the schools I got accepted into. Even when I realized that I wasn’t happy within my major and what I saw if I continued, I kept with it. I kept with it because I knew it would make my father happy.

In our phone call today he asked me how I was doing. He heard from my mother that I am bartending now. I know he doesn’t approve. The last couple of times we’ve talked about it, he’s called everything from a loser to a disappointment and hung up on me because he was too angry to continue talking. He asked if I could see myself bartending for the rest of my life. I told him no, that’s not my plan. He told me he was afraid of that.

He asked me why don’t you get a full time job. I told him that I didn’t want to. He then just sighed and asked to talk to my brother.

I feel guilty painting my father in such a negative light. He was there for the big things in my life. He came to my everyone of the plays I was in, all the concerts that my brother and I played in, and I even remember one time he came out to watch me play soccer.

He wants security in my life. He wants me to work for some large corporation that will provide me with a 401K and two weeks paid vacation. He worries that I will fail in my dreams. When I told him that I wanted to write, he asked for proof that I was a good enough writer.

As I sit here and write this, I know what he wants for me isn’t something horrible. He isn’t asking for me to kill someone or destroy something. I know he only wants assurance that I will be able to survive and prosper, even without him in my life.

Life is hard. And I know the path I am choosing for myself is harder than others. But I’ve found the thing that makes me feel the most alive and happiest. I wish I could show him that. Even through this all, as bad as things have gotten, I still harbor a need for his approval of my life. Maybe someday I’ll be able to show that to him. Maybe someday he’ll know the answer to the question of what makes his son happiest. Maybe.

I saw a bottle of Galliano sitting at a bar the other day so it got me thinking about this recipe.

Harvey Wallbanger

Ice a Collins glass
1 oz. vodka
Fill the glass with orange juice
Float Galliano on top of the drink