In which we are blindsided.
I’ve been playing around on Facebook lately. I am a late adopter, but better late than never, yes? The Venn diagram of family, real life friends, old classmates, and on-line friends is interesting, and watching some of those folks interact is kind of funny.
It has had some odd and unintended consequences, though.
A few days ago, my uncle Paul sent me a Facebook message. I haven’t seen Paul since I was about three years old. I have a foggy memory of him visiting us when we lived in Rushville, right after my brother was born. My mom always said that Paul was a sweet guy, so I was glad that he got in touch with me. What I was not expecting, though, was my reaction when he said he hadn’t heard from my dad since 1986. No one knows where he is, apparently. The thing is, I knew that already, and I wasn’t expecting news about him. I really do just want to get to know Paul and his family. I’ve got aunts and uncles and cousins I’ve never met, and that’s just ridiculous.
I don’t think my uncle Paul thinks I’ve got ulterior motives for contacting him–that he’s just a way to find my dad. After all, Paul contacted me. And he’s been in sporadic touch with my mom over the past few years. I don’t know why I’m worried about it. It’s just weird.
I’m also having a difficult time with the whole “dad” thing. I remember the last time I talked to him. He called, and we spoke on the phone for about five minutes. I was 10 years old, and I distinctly remember feeling conflicted about what to call him. I’d always called him daddy, but I was old enough by that point to feel uncomfortable calling him that. And you know what? I’ve pretty much avoided calling him anything at all since then, because I still haven’t figured it out. What do you call your father when you haven’t called him anything in 30 years?
Anyway, the blindsided part? I suddenly got all weepy while replying to my uncle Paul’s Facebook message.
red paper boat 