Dad was born on the 13th of August. Whether we believe it's down to fate, reincarnation, the "inifinite's" plan or just plain luck, some of us do draw the long straw with our families and some of us really don't - and there must be millions in the middle, who have an OK time of it - some things are tough, but generally they aren't too bad... But for those who get a short straw, the effects can be terrible and last years and years. Generations even.
I recently saw a picture of my grandad, my father's father, taken when he was in his 20's. Now I can laugh at his moustache and slightly scary mafia demeanour, but he was a pretty intimidating character. He ran away with a married woman and they had my dad in Scotland, out of wedlock - scandalous - August 13th, 1946. My dad was his only son. My grandmother (became?) a manic depressive, or "bi-polar" as they call it now. Maybe it was the fallout from leaving her husband and daughter and handing her life over to my grandad. Or maybe she would have been that way anyway, who know. I do know that she ran away when my father was about 6 and also that she tried to kill herself in the family home, slitting her wrists in the bath. My grandfather found her I think. So I sometimes wonder if my father really stood a chance. If I think of him, not as the man who was my father, but as the boy who was my grandad and grandmother's son, I feel terribly sad and sorry for him. As Philip Larkin said... "They fuck you up, your Mum and Dad...". And although I feel we should all take responsibility for our lives, I know, for certain, that it wasn't all his fault. I know that what I have had to live through began before my father was even born... although when exactly, I can't say. But I do know one thing for certain - there was more than one finger on that trigger.
