Fatherhood Episode 1....Nelson Fox, Hemingway and DADDY!

Being a father is tough. It is both the greatest and worst job in the universe all rolled into one messy package. The responsibilities and leadership role that comes with being the patriarch are many and often boggling. All fathers are a little nutty about protecting their daughters and sons, but add obsession, addiction and recovery into the pot and the mental stew gets thick really fast. Addicts and alchy's have an extra sensory gift that develops during our use. It is the ability to read people quite accurately and in a matter of seconds or minutes.

I remember when I was growing up and I would get in trouble for something. I would think things like "When I have a kid I'm not gonna be so mean." or "I'm not gonna treat my kid like that." There are a lot of those statements I could add here but it would read like a scroll from a "Three Stooges" sketch, where the scroll unfurls, and unrolls across the whole room. I will save you that misery. But as a parent, you know you had these same thoughts. I also had the strange notion that there was some sort of "Parenting Handbook" that was in the bottom of the box when you brought the kid home. Not so!

You all know I have 3 daughters and a son. My daughter, Ange, is the oldest. Sunny is in the middle. Bro is the youngest in the house. Kelly, my youngest daughter is with my Ex-wife. Where? I don't know.

After you have made it through the tender years and into "teenage hell" there is a new character introduced into the family unit. That is the boyfriend or girlfriend!

Ange didn't date until late in her teens, as far as I know, and after my reaction to her first boyfriend I can see why she wasn't anxious to bring "new prospects" over to meet me. During her senior year of high school she started working at a local restaurant. I was thrilled that she had a great work ethic and was inspired by her positive attitude when looking ahead to a night at work. At work was a boyfriend. A father's nightmare, or at least for the first few victims.

He was a handsome "MAN" and twice her age. His marital status was unknown but the age difference was enough to trigger my "ohhhh, Hellll No!" button immediately. I regret embarrassing and hurting her deeply after I terminated the relationship for her. I handled the situation wrong, because I did not consider her point of view and the level of emotional connection she had with this MAN. My reaction to the relationship was wrong by textbook definition. Hurting her, like I did, was one of the last bricks in the wall that caused her to flee when she was 18. With that being said, I would not change a thing regarding how I "informed" her boyfriend that the relationship was terminated. I had not been given the user's manual so I reverted to the primal fatherly instincts and rage overtook me.

The place where they worked was just down the street from our home, easy walking distance for her and a quick getaway route for what I had planned for the "perp." I am a die hard White Sox fan and lover of the Great American Pastime. I played until the age of 17 and swing a mean bat. Oops, I'm getting ahead of the story. On a calm summery night I picked up my Nelson Fox bat, and decided to take a stroll to the restaurant. As I stomped my way down the street my rage built and my batting average went up as I envisioned splattering his melon like hitting a 12" softball on the sweet spot. I made it to the restaurant and Hemi was surprised to see her daddy so unexpectedly. I gave her the look of "which one is he?" She tilted her head uncomfortably in the direction of her suitor. I was gentlemanly enough that I didn't take my "Nelly" bat in the front. I left it waiting patiently in the bushes outside. After capturing his photo in my terminate database like Arnie, I headed back out of the restaurant making my way back around to the kitchen entrance. I picked up my trusted friend and set off to introduce "Nelly" to the guy's cranium.

Standing at the screen door of the kitchen I beckoned my baby girl's friend to come outside and have a "discussion" with me. Looking back on it now, I don't think that knocking on the door with my Nelson Fox bat was the right way to convince him that he was in for a warm "father to boyfriend" chat. He didn't come out so I began to shout and bang my proposals on the door to him like a demented Irishman sending out Daddy Morse Code. The crux of my suggestions were that it would be in his health's interest if he ended his fascination with my daughter. I assured him we were not negotiating terms. It was take my advice or get used to the nickname "lemon head."

I am grateful the "Po Po" weren't called. I was manic in those few moments. To my delight, he accepted my terms, and left my baby alone. I think I taught that MAN a valuable lesson about dating etiquette and finding more appropriate subjects that day. No one got hurt physically. I know I had hurt Hemi and it hurt me like hell that I did. There are things we do as parents that our kids don't understand when the shite storm is swirling, but they often come around years later. I think she understands I was just looking out for her. As a guy I have laid every lying, cajoling, sympathetic and assuring line on the ladies to get what I wanted in the past.

Ange, Hemi, G, Preshus are all nicknames I use for her. She has got game! Her husband is wonderful and she is happy. The fact that they live in Hamburg, Germany is difficult for all of us but I admire her tenacity and dedication to her marriage. As for the boyfriends in between that first restaurant fling and her marriage to Joerg, there were other suitors I met along the way. My daughters have 2 bits of wisdom they share about me with the guys they date. Number one is, "shake his hand like a man, not a fish!" The second one is "look him in the eye when you're talking to him."

My middle daughter Sunny's dating habits are more like a "flavor of the week." I'll save that for another time. Nobody is issued a handbook on raising our kids. We do the best we can and sometimes the worst of us comes out trying to achieve that goal. How they turn out is a roll of the dice. You can do everything right and they still may end up in Singh-Singh or they can be faced with huge obstacles and become President of the United States. All we can do is pray and nudge them in the right direction. When they walk out that door, they are free to make choices out of our control. Worry doesn't help. We've all done that. Faith and guidance is all we got. Sometimes the discipline we hand out hurts us just as much to us as it does to them.

Like I said, being a father is the greatest and worst job in the world. Today I think I'm getting the hang of it. I really like my kids. The love is automatic. The like is sometimes here, and sometimes not. I keep the faith and never lose hope in their character and the choices they make. I bite my tongue more now than rattling it at them. I do the best I can, plain and simple. The rest is up to how the dice were rolled and what number comes up, and the grace of God.