"the boy"

I didn't figure out until recently what a rare creature I am.  When I was younger, I saw my Dad doing things with "the boy" - you know him, he's the oldest child of three and the only boy hence the name "the boy".  Anyway, I would see my Dad trying to impart his wisdom to "the boy" and having "the boy" shrug his shoulder or roll his eyes at the mere mention of the projects Dad wanted to share with "the boy".  I am, however, in the under-sanctified class of third child and second daughter.  In China, I would have been put in a basket and left out in the cold until I succumbed to the elements and perished.  In fact, my mother once told me that, "It wasn't so much that I didn't want you, I just tried all I could not to have you" and if that doesn't leave you with a warm fuzzy feeling I don't know what will. What it did do is give me a feeling of worthlessness (is that even a word?) and being unwanted and somehow less loved than my other two siblings.  I also believe that this was the beginning of the death of my emotions. This may also be why I fucked up parenting my children.  I mean really...who says that to a child? I so very badly wanted all three of my daughters. I never wanted them to feel unwanted and abortion never entered my mind, even when I knew that I was messing it up, making the same mistakes my mother made with me but I really tried so hard not to.  They are each precious little wounded souls who have learned by my example what a truly shitty parent is and thus have become uber parents to their children.  I won't hide behind my mental illness because there really is no satisfactory excuse.  None.  Anyway, I digress...my Dad was a smart man despite having only an 8th grade education.  He was country smart.  He grew up in a world where he might be a migrant worker one day and a lumberjack the next.  Born in the mid 1930's he was right in the midst of the great depression and they learned to "expletive" rig everything.  He grew up, worked at various jobs, married my mother, went in the army and was lucky enough to miss both WWII and Korea.  He worked at many jobs but his final career was Superintendent of the maintenance department at a Connecticut steel mill.  He worked hard all of his adult life, retired at 65 and died two years later of cancer.  My mother had passed four months earlier from cancer as well. My father, all through "the boy's" gifted life, tried so hard to turn "the boy" into a son that he could be proud of only to have "the boy" piss on it and throw it back in his face.  In the meantime, I - in my role of "princess infanticide" - would be standing around my Dad doing my best "Horshack" imitation of, "ooo..pick me!...I'm here...pick me...ooo...ooo..pick me!" which my Dad would ignore because I was a girl and girls don't do those things.  Instead I was sent into the kitchen to do dishes and play with my dolls until my knight in shining armor rode in to sweep me away.  Don't get me wrong!  I am all girl.  I like big sparkly jewelry and frilly clothes, but sometimes it's nice to thread a worm onto a hook and go fishin' with my Dad!!  When "the boy" did his final fuck up and was given a choice of army, navy, or air force in lieu of being murdered by my father - he jumped at the chance and enlisted in the Air Force where he served for almost two years before, during a deployment to Ramstein Air Base in Germany, he was arrested by the MP's for possession of hashish.  He was summarily sent to a military prison in Colorado and then given a general discharge and when "the boy" came home he proceeded to drink himself silly and wreck several cars.  During the time of "the boys" military service my Dad was on the lookout for a little buddy to hang out with him and Lo and Behold his eyes stopped on me and I began the era during which I was the best son my father could ask for.  Need help loading that john-boat on the top of the truck?  No problem be right there.  Need someone to help load and/or unload the camper?  Not a problem, here I am. Need someone to go fishin' with?  You got it, my rod and reel is ready 24/7.  Thinking about going squirrel hunting?  I've got my small 22 shotgun and a box of bullets!  Let's go!! I really did enjoy those times with my dad and I'm going to tell you why if you promise not to laugh.  When I was little 5 or 6, I thought my dad was John Wayne. Really! I did!  I thought he left the house in the morning and went to get his horse and hunt down cattle rustlers and horse thieves.  I never told anyone because they would just laugh and make me feel stupid as they so often did. I loved both of my parents.  I would marvel at my mothers artistic skill.  She could make a wedding cake covered in flowers or beads and borders, she made tons of candy around Easter and Christmas (Home-made peanut butter cups were my favorites), ceramics, toll painting, sewing, and crochet were among her many talents.  Even though I knew deep down that she loved me, I can still hear what she said and I wonder, if abortions were legal then...would I be here today??  I'm not so sure.  My Dad on the other hand, was a great father who worked and provided for his family, he was there when you needed him and continued to try and make "the boy" into a man and not too long ago (After 11 years of not speaking at all, I found a picture of "the boy" on his birthday with his goofy grin holding a video game at 57 years of age.  I don't guess "the boy" will ever grow up.