The Mick is my father. Ours is a long story. This is just part of it.
I was chatting with The Mick the other day. It’s not an uncommon occurrence for him to call me at work to say hello, to ask me to do something for him, or to question me on my life choices (sometimes all of the above in the course of a single 5 minute conversation).
Yesterday he called to tell me that a woman he dated in high school contacted him out of the blue, saying that she had thought of him often over the past 60 years, and wanted to catch up. This wasn’t news to me, as he had told me the same story in a letter a few weeks back. But I had been waiting for the ball to drop. I was waiting for him to have to announce that I had an otherwise unknown half-sibling. That maybe he had sired other offspring so many years ago, and that this person was looking to get in contact with him.
I’m often asked about my family. Am I really an only child? Did The Mick not have other children? My typical response (one that usually gets a chuckle) is “not that the private investigator could turn up”. It’s the closest thing to the truth that I know.
But here came this news of his long lost companion. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She wouldn’t have just called to reminisce and talk about the weather, would she? The Mick offered no further information. Not a peep about the mysterious high school girlfriend, or her family (or his family). We changed subjects. We talked about his work, his upcoming travels, his thoughts on risky behavior and thrill seekers.
“‘Lisha, I’m going to take up water sports” he said with a chuckle, “bathing!” [insert old man laughing noises here].
But I couldn’t let the matter rest. If he wasn’t going to mention it, I sure as hell was.
“So, why was that woman calling you?” I asked him. “If I were you, I would have been expecting her to announce that you had an unknown child.”
“No, ‘Lisha, it wasn’t like that. We weren’t that serious”. With that dismissal, with that re-assurance that he had not had sex with that woman, the tightness in my chest loosened, my breathing regulated, and I was able to let the subject go.
But when your father is The Mick, you never know what you may find out.
I don’t have a photo of The Mick to share today, so here’s a picture of Chubbs, doing his impression of The Mick, and Chubbs would like to sit down and have a serious discussion with you about your five year plan.