That’s me, back in 1969 or so. Twelve years old. One important thing in my life happened right about then, and a second important thing didn’t. I wrote about the first thing in a blog posted to Tulare County Atheists some time ago. This blog is about the second thing, the one that didn’t happen. At least not for another 25 years.
I had a “girlfriend” when I was 5 years old. We attended the same kindergarten class in Tacoma. I remember calling her my girlfriend, and I think she called me her boyfriend, but I’m not sure either of us really thought much of the designation. For me, it might have been more something my father suggested. She and I only interacted in school, since we didn’t live close to each other. We didn’t really play that much together, and other than the status of “girlfriend”, I really don’t recall much about her. I think her name was the same as my sister’s, Sherry, but I could be mis-remembering that. We moved after the end of the school year, and I never saw her again. I don’t recall being upset about that. Maybe that was the first clue?
That was it for girlfriends up until my senior year in high school. Second clue? Perhaps.
I should have figured out the second thing right about the same time I figured out the first. But there was a big difference between being OK about being an atheist, and being OK about being gay.
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Father’s Day 2011
June 19, 2011
Jim Reeves commentary, Personal dad as swim instructor, Father's Day, Jim Reeves Leave a comment
Jim Sr., 45, & Jim Jr., 26, November 1983
I’m a bit sad at the moment, as this night rolls into Father’s Day 2011. He died when I was 49, and sometimes I find myself missing something that never was, and wondering about what might have been. He was who he was, and it’s surely a waste of time to pine over something that never happened. I wonder how he felt when he lost his dad, at 28. He never said, and I never asked. It’s odd how the person that is the closest to you can be the most distant.
I’m reminded of one particular moment with my Dad, and I’ve thought of it often over the years. Father’s Day stories are often heartwarming tales of the past, a wonderful moment shared between father and son. This isn’t one of those stories.
He was trying to teach me to swim, and only managed to scare me into a crying heap of shamed little boy.
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