Snack #11: Dad & The Parking Spot
My dad was just a person. Not a better person, definitely not a Saint or a sage. He was a person who was afraid to take responsibility, who indulged in the good in life and ran away from the bad.
I learned that he never helped out with neither me nor my brother when we were babies, never changed a diaper, and was home late from work every night. It's funny how we idolize our parents and keep it up until we are grown, just because they are the first people we know, and therefore set an example for the rest. Yesterday I finally had that epiphany - my parents are only people. With that being said, my parents taught me some of the most important lessons in the life I live today. My dad introduced me to the music I love nowadays, and in his death, sent me on a pilgrimage to pursue happiness, whatever that means.
I'm in debt for that lesson, and as for the rest, I can just say that...I understand. I don't understand people that well, or at least I think I don't, but I do understand. And with that understanding and acceptance, comes letting my dad's image and person off the pedestal - he was a person, he taught me things, is it any different than the others in my life since then?
A lesson from a thing:
I found a parking spot outside the ww2 museum in New Orleans. Not in the lot, but a street parking spot, with a 2-hour limit.
Now, right nearby there were 2 lots, but no, I found that spot, it's so cool! Let me go online and renew my parking spot by entering my credit info, every 2 hours, again and again, interrupting the flow of touring the museum, just to keep that spot. What price do we pay to stay where we are if we believe it's valuable if we feel it's safe.
The person wants to stay where they settled, a law of nature, but at what cost? In hindsight, it turned out the be the same cost as the lot, but the lot would have saved me the hassle and worry. What a silly man I am sometimes, stubborn like my dad.
Dancing with Cleo the cat, somewhere between emotion and story, remembering another father figure called Shabba Doo: