What do you mean, “real” father?
Such an awesome post about what makes a great father and grandfather:
I’m the kid in this picture. The man standing beside me on the old street-sweeper is my mom’s biological father, who is not my grandfather. I’m the first to admit that I have more than a few buttons that people can push to send me off on a long rant. One of them is the use of the term “real father” (or mother, or virtually any other familial designator), particularly when it is used to refer to someone’s biological-but-absentee relative. And sometimes I don’t just rant, sometimes I’m barely suppressing an urge to punch someone in the mouth over the use of the phrase. More than a little of the blame for that irrational reaction rests solidly at the feet of the man pictured here with a very young me. A man named Ralph.
The story can get a little convoluted, so I’m going to first sum-up, then unpack a…
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