When he returned home for good it didn’t take me long to realize that he was a hell of a lot more interested in the cute three year old girl who lived next door than he was in me. I found that I had to compete for his attention. I was 8 or 9 years old. It seemed wrong to me then but I didn’t really know why. What the hell is that all about? I didn’t get the same attention as a girl next door. When I was 10 or 11 I went to the park to try out for a ball team. I returned home having failed in my attempt and feeling pretty down hearted. He ignored me as I came up the drive way. I was down. He just told me to get to work. My uncle arrived a few minutes later. He read my distress, asked me for details and sort of got me over it. There was this contrast. I thought holy shit someone talked to me. I never forgot that.
In general, my father was very busy getting his business going. He left home early in the morning, came home for supper, quite often worked after supper, and always on Saturday morning. We didn’t do much of anything together, although I do remember he helped me learn how to ride a bike so that he could get me started with a paper route. He was all about me making money. I remember his amazing dedication to his work. He seemed to love it. In his spare time he worked in his garden. He didn’t really have much of anything left for me. He was the perfect model of what society says a man is supposed to be. He was the, “man of the house” and as the man he was the “Boss” of the family. The women take a limited role in decision making in my family. He was bright, hardworking and strong. He started his own business and made millions. He was so powerful he was scary. For quite a while he had a habit that hurt me a lot. When he arrived home from work he would see me and then carry on through the house calling out to my mother, “Where’s the goat?” He would do that as if he had not seen me. There was no none else around so clearly
