Bad-Ass Dad Strikes Back
Reunited with Dad After My Sister and I Returned to Seattle from North Dakota
A couple days ago while I was in the library, I noticed I’d missed a call from my dad. I listened to his message as I walked through the reference area. The beginning of the message made me nervous—was he really pissed? By the time I sat down at a computer to look up some titles, my eyes were tear-full. This is what he said:
“Shira, I just want to tell you I’m kind of pissed off because I feel that you’ve taken unfair advantage of our relationship. I think that for you to use your black magic powers against me was unexpected to say the least. But I’ll just let you know how it turned out. I started with my new principal and she said all writing teachers have to become writers. It was the first thing she said, and I thought, Oh shit, Shira did this. So anyhow I’ve got my writer’s notebook, wrote a short story, I mean just a real rough draft for a classroom thing, but it was kind of fun. Anyhow, I’m not happy with you yet. Unless this really turns out to be something good, then I’ll thank you.”
A few weeks ago I blogged about how I wish my dad would return to writing because he is so talented, has amazing stories to tell, knows about things most people have no idea about, is very gifted with language, has had great success with writing in the past, and is extremely wise and insightful. I understand that being a language arts teacher is very demanding and that many teachers find it difficult to write or to want to write, but I still had hopes that someday my dad would return to it.
After I posted this blog about my dad, I asked him if he’d read it. He said yes but didn’t have much more to say. He told me he wasn’t closed off to the idea of writing again someday, but that it was hard for him to imagine doing it until he has more free time and head space. As is everything in my dad’s life, writing is a spiritual act for him. He doesn’t want to do it unless it is spiritually nourished and inspired (which isn’t to say it won’t be irreverent).
When I left the library, I called my dad back. He told me a little more about the details of his new principal and the new writing program he is being trained to use at the alternative public school where he teaches. Of course I had nothing to do with the fact that my dad is writing again, but he generously and humorously chose to give me some credit. I really don’t have black magic powers, but my grandma (his mom) does practice voodoo. When my sister cleaned her house once she found 1) a dagger under Nana’s pillow for self protection, 2) suicide pills so she won’t ever have to live a non-independent life, and 3) voodoo dolls of some guys from the IRS.
My dad, in his typical way, is going about his new (old) pursuit egolessly. He is going to be writing (incredible prose) alongside his students and sharing it with them as they share theirs with him. I’m sure his students are going to love what he writes and it is going to make them want to write more. And someday, my dad’s stories are going to move from his writing notebook to his computer and from his computer to literary journals. They won’t only make us laugh; they will also make us see the world more wholely and with more compassion.
I’m sorry Shira, but now that you’ve told me about your grandmother, I’m even more convinced that you have to write some essays about your family.
Also, could you please use some of your black voodoo magic power for me? I’d like to become a famous and wealthy writer. If that’s too much to ask for, I’ll settle for just wealthy. If that’s too much to ask for, I’d settle for just being inspired to write–the way you made things happen for your dad.
You’re the mystical physics professor! Will you please rearrange some particles to make my life work better? Plus, I can ask my grandma to make good voodoo dolls of us. I hope you are enjoying the motherland.
Ah, I only know how the particles work, not how to control them. That’s black physics, I’m a white physics witch. :-)
Would love a good voodoo doll!
Shira,
You inspire people to find the stories within them, hidden like daggers under a pillow. You seem to live that (black) magical workshop life where just a simple comment or a word of encouragement from you about one of my poems or a tangent I run away on makes me want to stop everything and dig out my notebook. So whether that leads to wealth or fame or a complete sentence, I would thank you for it in advance. Sounds like your dad is doing that… I look forward to seeing his work in print soon.
p.s. I love that picture of you as little girl. You have not changed much!
Toni, you are so kind and overly generous. You inspire me on an ongoing basis. This comment here sure inspires me–to want to be the person you describe and to inspire you even a fraction of how much you inspire me.
I think both girls look adorable!