I flew back to Pittsburgh last week to surprise my father for his 90th birthday. As hoped, he answered his apartment door with shock and gratitude. Together with my sister who drove up from D.C. and Dad's "girlfriend", Angie, we celebrated the hallmark with steaks, the proverbial candle and reminiscent stories. Dad asked about the kids, I shared my Shutterfly photo album, and we all agreed that children grow too fast. (Was he thinking that of me?)
The next day, Dad waited with me at the hotel for the airport shuttle. Though he said my visit was better than any ole Christmas present, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd disappointed him.
The night before, in between brags and exclamations about the grandkids' curiosities, Angie had asked me if I missed academe. Normally I'd say not really, smile, and move the conversation in another direction. This time I said, "Yes. I do." She replied, "I bet." And with those few simple words exchanged, I wondered if she and Dad alike think I'm wasting my (still unpaid, thanks Sallie Mae) Phd by "helping" Pat with the business and mothering. With each weekly Sunday phone call, my father extols the importance of supporting my husband and taking care of those kids. Heck, he gave me a lecture on my 'job' as wife and mother the last time I told him, no, I wasn't preparing a Sunday dinner and, yes, the pizza delivery is on its way. Needless to say, at 90 years of age, he remains a bit conservative in the gender roles department.
On the other hand, he was one of my biggest advocates during grad school. He shed tears at my graduation. And, he was thrilled when I accepted the tenure track job at UC Boulder, not least of all because he served in Denver during the War and liked the idea of possibly revisiting the famed Brown Palace and enjoying more slaughterhouse delights. Back then, I truly felt that my father wanted ME to succeed. Yet, now, our conversations focus on (grand)children, and Pat's business, and diet or meal preparation...and I'm left to wonder if I've failed my father by not utilizing the opportunities I earned.
After all, Dad gave his life to the Steel Works. He dutifully worked the 3rd shift every day for over 40 years. He didn't bother asking if the job was fulfilling or meaningful, he simply labored as needed and supported himself and me with those earnings. Needless to say, the virtues of the Protestant Work Ethic were widely extolled in our family growing up. Yet, anyone could see the glint of hope Dad carried in his eyes when I walked across stage to receive my diploma--the piece of paper that promised a different life. A life where I could make choices about my work and how I'd contribute to the world. The personification of the next generation doing better than the previous one...Perhaps my eyes are clouded but what I see now is some level of resignation. 'She made her choices, now she must live with them.'
I hope my daughter and son NEVER consider whether or not they've disappointed their father or I in their work choices. Though I do hope when the time comes that they're truly content in those choices...
2 comments:
I think most parents want to believe that they work to provide their kids with choices to do otherwise. Therefore, for your father, academe promised that, as your education did but the important part was not that you did not stay in academe but perhaps more that he sees, like you in both your recent posts, how you too may be sacrificing your self and the choices he wanted to provide you to another's enterprise....
You know, your comment got me thinking. When I told my mother that I was getting married to Pat, she replied, "Wonderful. Now we don't have to worry about you anymore. You'll have someone to provide for you." While my father replied, "What do you need to go and do that for?"
What's even more interesting is how I find myself vacillating between these different ethos of what it means to be a wife and mother. On the one hand, my job IS to be a supporter, champion, and caregiver to my husband and children. On the other hand, I don't always do a good job of the former because these tasks alone don't fill the glass called Nikki. After all, I too was a provider at one time!
Caught between generational expectations of work, gender, marriage...
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