My Father's Daughter

My Father is a Republican. As I am an avowed Progressive and longtime activist, this has made for some lively discussions over the years. Our family divides along political lines in such a way that if each of us voted at the same time, in the same place, we would effectively cancel one another out. This seems fair to me, in that it honors the long cherished American value of a system which finds its balance by navigating the distance between opposing points of view. Though divorce swept my Father from our home when I was very young he has always been a part of my life ...a source of support and comfort.

When I joined the fight against AIDS in the early 80's he expressed his concern for my well being, but did not question the integrity of my involvement nor did he offer anything but sympathy for those who suffered through the ravages of the disease. My Father does not share my affection for the Catholic faith and yet he maintains a strong anti-abortion stance. While I love my church, I cannot in good faith, abandon the health and future of young women's lives to back-alley procedures and broken dreams. I have always been an avid supporter of Progressive Democrats and devote a great deal of my life to giving them voice and electing them to office. For most of these years, my Father worried that I worked too hard and cared too much. He saw this as detrimental to my personal life. He was not all wrong about this and I have learned to mix in a movie here and there and indulge in the occasional massage.

My Father is a great fan of the Industrial revolution and holds firm to the belief that there is no problem that cannot be solved through free markets and innovative science. He once explained to me that pollution is nothing to worry about as he is certain that scientists will invent some clever way to clean the air and waters. I have tried hard to imagine some giant air purifier that would return the skies to clear. Is it possible that we could invent a giant aquarium filter that would sift through the oil and garbage and raw sewage that continue to poison our seas? Anyone for a swim? Come on y'all! Good old Science is gonna cure the "I Got Hepatitis in the Santa Monica Bay Blues" ( Sorry, Pop but I just can't go there with you).

This dynamic has been good for a few laughs and more than a few quarrels over the years, but somewhere along the way things took a turn. Things are not so funny anymore.

Here is how it started. My siblings and I spent Thanksgiving with my Father and his wife up in Oregon just a few years back. My husband and I were working on the Howard Dean campaign at the time. 9/11 had shaken all of our lives. The National dialogue had already begun to shift from debate to contact sport. There was a lot of blood in the water, not to mention on the ground in Iraq. Upon arriving in the house I was struck by the fact that on what seemed like every flat surface sat a copy of some inflammatory right wing tract.

Anne Coulter took center stage on the coffee table spewing hate and labeling me a "Traitor". Every where I looked some right winger was calling me names. It was not appetizing, nor was it the ideal environment in which to introduce my fiancé. "Welcome to Dad's ... they hate us, but the food's good". It took 24 hours, but I finally summoned the courage to request that the books be put away for another day. "Can't we all just mow the lawn?" Wish it was funny ... But it wasn't funny ... not at all. This was not my favorite Holiday. It pains me to this day.

On a recent visit, my Father who was once kind of a kick to be with, sat on my sofa looking glum. His arms folded across his chest, he rarely joined in any conversation. He avoided the kitchen where his wife and I cooked and caught up on family news. He and I share a love of food and I always prepare his favorite dishes. This time meals were eaten quietly and joylessly, he clearly was preoccupied. Something was wrong, but he wasn't talkin'. We tiptoed around him, I talked him into playing the piano, which he does beautifully and for hours in a sitting.. He played one song.

On the third day he broke. The wine and cheese had melted his silence. Teeth clenched, eyes hard and angry he engaged in a full frontal assault in my living room. We were going to talk politics and the war was on. He insisted that I have been hoodwinked by fools. Iraq makes perfect sense. The war is just a small war, the casualties minor, the long term effects positive. He proceeded to tell me that on every issue I am uninformed, ill-advised and just plain wrong. I took the bait ... I fought back. The other family members winced, afraid to intervene. There were tears, there was shouting and finally there was my sister begging us to stop.

When he drove away the next morning, I felt the way I had, when I was nine years old and he drove away from our house on Park Street to a new life and family. I felt like I had lost my Dad.

This is the true tragedy of these times. The very rhetoric that seeks to "defend the family" is tearing them apart. Many of my gay friends cannot bring themselves to load up the kids and drive to that yearly family gathering in a Red state. They cannot bear the fact that their relatives support an administration which seeks to amend the Constitution to deny their union. A difference of opinion is now being characterized as a moral failing. And now the secretary of defense has dropped the N bomb. He has called me a Nazi sympathizer?!!! This is so crazy that it should be funny, but, it's not funny ... not at all.

The problem with peppering our politics with personal attacks is that people take them personally. Our Country is facing real crisis at home and abroad. This is a time to stand together and yet our leaders seek to divide us, turning brother against brother straight families against gay families, the religious against the agnostic, soil-born against immigrant, father against daughter. I am a big girl now, but this makes me want to cry.

So I'll tell you what Pop. I am sorry that you and I do not agree. I am sorry that this makes you angry and causes you pain. I am sorry that we cannot share your twilight years in an atmosphere of love and laughter. But I am not sorry for what I believe and I will not apologize for who I am.

I have your eyes, green/blue, wide and thickly lashed, but, we see the World through a different lens. I will try, if you will. Maybe we will just have to make idle conversation until the tenor of these times returns to a moderate key. I don't want to fight with you and believe it or not, in my heart I believe that I am fighting for you and for a better world for your Grandkids. Let's raise a glass Pop and have some seafood risotto and a great crust of bread. Life is long. Life is good. I love you.

Beth