Sunday, June 19, 2011

Papa



My father was a complicated man - I guess we're all complicated, yes?

Who was he? I've been thinking about him a lot lately. My Papa was one of the most creative thinkers I have ever known, almost to his detriment at times. He was absolutely passionate about the arts - all of them - though music was the form that was by far most dear to him.

I remember vividly my father standing in front of the loud speaker (this was before stereo sound) "conducting" a Beethoven symphony with the baton my mother gave him for his birthday. Sometimes he would put on a record, then say, "Girls, do you hear this intrument?" He would sing along with one melodic/harmonic line. Then he would say, "That was a french horn," (or oboe, or cello or whatever). Next he would show us pictures of the instrument. Fabulous! He would ask, "How does this piece of music make you feel?" He was a GREAT teacher of music appreciation. After we were tucked into bed, sometimes he would yell (from the living room), "Any requests?" Then he would play something we wanted to hear as we fell asleep. These are sweet memories.

I wish I had known him as a young man. During the 1940s he danced in competitions at the height of the era of swing. I believe he was quite good. He loved Glenn Miller and all those guys who had dance orchestras at that time. As a young man he was athletic; he played tennis and rode horses, for instance. Sadly he messed up his legs somehow before I was born, so by the time I came to know him the only physical thing he did was go bowling. He was a bowling coach, in fact. Such a strange pursuit, but he loved it.

My Papa loved all manner of games and was fiercely competitive. He taught all of us to play chess. I think my sister Deborah is the only one of us who ever beat him at that game. He used to say, "In the end, I'll take your king. So just relax and enjoy the game." Hmmmm. What a message, eh?

He did a lot of drawing and cartooning, very mid-century style as I remember, and occasionally indulged in performance art. I remember he settled one dispute among my sibs and I by way of a neatly typed judgment. I found a copy of it recently. Reading it, I laughed until I cried, it was so hilarious. To this day I have never attended a Seder that could hold a candle to the ones he lead. He was a raconteur, just what you want at the head of the table at Passover, oh yeah. I still smile remembering the way he read the book "Nize Baby," (by Milt Gross) out loud to us. Oohoo, nize baby, itt opp all the cheeken zoop so mama'll gonna tell you a Ferry-Tail from Keeng Mitas. Ha.

When I figured out how cruel he could be, how he punished us through insults and humiliation, I turned a cold shoulder to him. I dismissed my love for him at that time; that was it. How old was I? Maybe 10? I'm just guessing; I wasn't very old when it became clear that his dark side was really really DARK. I remember thinking, "I don't need this."

But when I began doing ancestor work as part of my shamanic/wiccan training, I was surprised to see him appear in my trance journeys. We've been pretty close ever since then, strangely or beautifully, depending on how you want to look at it.

All the heart opening I've been engaged in recently is truly global in its impact. This morning I am thinking with so much love about my Papa. That is crazy! And so healing, wow! Something that shattered long ago in my heart is mending itself, like one of those films of a glass breaking, played backwards. I am in awe.

Happy Father's Day to those who celebrate. And to you Papa? Cheers! Fly high, rest in peace. I'll see you on the flip side. Shalom.

16 comments:

jeanette from everton terrace said...

That's lovely Reya. Wishing you nothing but happy memories all day and a fun evening!

steven said...

wow reya. wow! this is such a beautiful post reya. it must feel incredible to be able to write it.
the father's dance: graceful and light, and on the same dance floor - shadows. i experienced my father in much the same way and as he grew older the light mellowed, the moves grew slower and more graceful, and the shadows withdrew to the sides. i got to watch his dance move through reiki, tai chi, yoga and buddhism until he wasn't really dancing any more. he was almost still. steven

Whitney Lee said...

Lovely. Why do relationships with our parents have to be so complicated? I love the sweet memories you shared; it's awesome to dig through the memories of our parents before we learned they were fallible.
I think one of my most wrenching lessons as an adult was learning that my parents could make choices and take actions that were diametrically opposed to the type of people they'd raised us to be, that they could do things that I couldn't respect. I've reached a place now where most of the time I'm able to shake my head and love them for the people they are, imperfect though they may be. But, damn, some days it's hard!
It's nice to hear that, though your papa is long gone, your relationship is healing. We're always taught that the chances end with death. You're take on it all gives me much hope.

Reya Mellicker said...

Relationships definitely do not end at death, or so that's my experience, Whitney. Love is forever, it really is!

Steven, oh man. Oh. Your comment ... wow. YES it was incredible to write this, yes yes.

With my dad, the shadows grew darker as he got older, just the opposite of your experience. And yet the experience is the same, yes? I've known for awhile that you and I are family. It's mysterious, but resonates strongly, yes?

ellen abbott said...

how wonderful for you that you healing that broken place inside.

Reya Mellicker said...

I am honestly blown away.

California Girl said...

My FIL danced in competitions in the 40s as well. He won a national jitterbug championship in 1943 or '44 (my husband isn't sure). At the time, he lived in Philly. Wonder if they crossed paths?

Reya Mellicker said...

They might have! My father LOVED to jitterbug. Totally forgot that word - thanks for reminding me.

Cyndy said...

What a beautiful post - such great memories! And both of your photos are perfect for today. Beautiful!

mouse (aka kimy) said...

wow....thanks for such a heartfelt tribute to your complicated pa...i'm so glad that your inner journeying has brought you closer and helped bring light to the darkness of memory.

namaste!

Dan Gurney said...

A moving post, Reya. I love coming here. Our relationships with parents do evolve after their deaths, just as you say, and probably after our own deaths as well.

Our relationships with parents (and with children if you have them) are very, verrry complicated, and well worth working on for a whole lifetime. I think they're complicated (to venture a response to Whitney's question) is precisely because they are our first and most committed teachers. I believe we choose our parents—no accidents—because they're there to help us towards fulfillment. sometimes with dark teachings, yes.

My experience is much like yours with the relationship improving and mellowing with time. Thanks for this tribute.

Reya Mellicker said...

Thanks Dan. I love the notion that these relatiOnships continue even after death. Very cool .

Meri said...

How amazing that he would join you in your shamanic trances. He must have found his light again on the other side.

Reya Mellicker said...

Meri he did - quickly, too. He has given me the best advice.

Nancy said...

Very nice tribute to your father - a complicated man or not, it's clear you loved him very much.

Kerry said...

Like your father, mine left me with some baggage but also some gifts. He died 11 years ago, and in the end it was all sweet, all sweet.