friday afternoon super men

on kryptonite and coffee dates

Who wouldn’t want to be Superman?

Anyone?

Right.

If you’re subscribing to this foolsletter dear reader maybe the desire to have superhuman strength, laser vision and the ability to fly around the globe so quickly that you can turn back time isn’t really your cup of tea.

Ok, sure. I get it. Superman powers come with a lot of responsibility. It’s never really been my cup of tea.

But as a father?

There have been times my kids have seen me as superman.

It’s about as unnerving as it is delightful

Again, I’m a sometimes fool and often troll. Being seen as Superman is a lot to live up to.

Luckily, I’ve spared my dad that for much of his life.

Even as a toddler I trolled my dad.

One of my earliest memories was of a hockey game.

My dad was playing with the firemen. They were taking on the policemen at the Grey Rink.

Dear reader I used the terms ‘fireman’ and ‘policeman’ because the year was 1976 and chicks did not do these jobs yet.

Every year the cops and firefighters played a charity hockey game. It was usually a heated affair - dirty, chippy and fraught with a lot of penalties and fist fights on the ice.

Oh the good old days.

My dad was a played left wing. I don’t remember much beyond spending the game cheering for the cops. My mother tried to correct me. It was no use. Even before the game I razzed my dad. Go police men go! Fireman bad! Police Men good!

I remember his look of quizzical disappointment. He looked at me as if to say What the fuck is my so thinking rooting against his dad?

I never had to tolerate such an experience but I can tell ya that if my so had rooted for the cops vs the clowns?

I’d have been irate.

These days though?

I’ve got a lot of admiration for my dad.

We’ve had our bumps over the years.

For a long time it seemed like my life’s work to viciously troll him at every turn. It was as though rooting for him was my kryptonite.

Twenty five years ago when my dad retired from the fire department, he joined the local church dinner theatre. I was beginning my career as a clown, arts educator and all around professional arsehole.

My dad?

He put in funny teeth that his twin brother the denturist made for him and fucked around with people and made them laugh. When ever there was a dinner theatre performance he delighted in stealing the show.

As he’s aged his goofiness has begun to shine through and then his softness, awkwardness and understanding.

As I’ve aged and raised a couple of teenagers through their rebellious stage, I’ve realized that holy fuck I was a ruthlessly contrarian trollish prick. I put my parents through hell.

I’ve been reactive and mean. It has hurt me. It has hurt them. I wish that I would have realized this sooner.

I’m ashamed to say that I likely only let up over the last couple of years. Being diagnosed with ADHD and realizing just how severely my behaviour and quality of life has been impacted by my weird wiring has created a bridge of understanding between us.

I’m not an asshole on purpose. I have a developmental disorder that makes it tough for me to shut the fuck up.

I’m awkward.

And as I’ve learned this about myself, I can see a lot of those traits in my dad as well.

Where he’s had to contort himself to fit in, I’ve exploded breaking every mold and social norm that I could.

My dad is a child of the 1950’s.

Jimmy, there were so many of us that there were sixty in the classroom. There were so many at Dartmouth High when I started they had two different school days running at once. The war had barely ended. People were expected to fit in. Things were manufactured. Lawns were kept green. The suburbs were built and conformity reigned supreme. Sure the sixties happened, but in Dartmouth hippies were weird and not really welcome. And firefighters? That was pretty much a military operation as well.

And I built my career of self expression and exploration on his bedrock of conformity.

I got paid to clown around.

For the firemen?

That’s how they survived.

These days I have no desire to push back and troll him.

These days we’re both super men, two crusty old guys who like going for coffee at the mall together on a Friday afternoon.