Women, Fathers, and Kitchens

Today I am going to discuss one of the many interesting correlations I have found throughout my life. I find these to be pretty concrete observations. At least to me and maybe after some reflection on your part, you will concur.

People like to share their thoughts and problems with others. Friends, strangers, neighbors, it doesn't seem to matter. If there is an ear willing to listen, people will speak to that ear. What is said are usually things that are bothering an individual. They need to verbally get it off their chests and out into the world. Hopefully it will bounce off someone and they will get an opinion or just comments from someone.

I have made an effort, as I've aged, to restrict this type of behavior. But I am guilty of this because I do have unresolved issues that always spew out even if I conscientiously try to contain them.

Which brings me to Women, Fathers, and Kitchens. This phenomenon crosses all ages and countries. When I have been invited to a woman's house, I am given a tour of the house or apartment. I have noticed that the kitchen is unused or in need of repair. Conversation ensues and the topics usually lead to a revealing about families and the relationships within. These women talked about unresolved issues and it almost related to a bad or estranged relationship with their fathers. Further in conversation came the revelation about not being able to find the right man or keep any relationship flourishing. Coincidence, I think not.

I think that fathers play such a enormous role in their daughter's lives. I know daughters who have gone to extraordinary measures just to keep the slightest lifeline open to their fathers. An unresolved relationship with a father puts a damper on relating to any man. Some may not to admit it but the kitchen, Father, and relationships are forever linked.

My daughter rarely uses her kitchen, now has a null relationship with me and I hope that her relationship with her husband stays strong for the sake of their child. Time will tell.

Parents, in general, are a strange breed. When we live them there is usually conflict. Why because parents forget that they were young once and did exactly the same things their kids do. Some are close with their parents, others no. I was not. My parents worked hard but had one fatal flaw. They never kept promises. This frustrated me to no end. Nothing is worse than working your butt off for some reward and reaping nothing.

Regardless of your relationship with your parents, John Donne was right, Everyones' death diminishes me. Especially a parent's. Nothing brings your humanity, like a brick, to you. A significant part of you is gone and can never be replaced. And I mourned for my parents, flaws and all.

Which brings me to my wife. When I met her and first visited her house, eureka, a woman who used her kitchen. Hey, potential here. Naturally, our conversations got around to family and incredibly she had a close relationship with her dad. Happy or not she did sustain a marriage for 20 years. This beauty was a keeper. The only question! Would she keep me?

My Music

I think our tastes in music are formed at an early age. I have heard many people say they were influenced by what music their parents preferred to listen to. My parents only listened to music on sundays or when we were in the car. Lawrence Welk was the preferred musical program. Polish, of course. Polish radio programs in the car on sundays. No matter, that none of us, besides my father, understood one of syllable of Polish. My mother was Armenian. No, we never heard any Armenian music. Hey she was just the wife and my mother. The music she liked was of little importance.

I can still remember the awe I experienced when in fifth grade we had a field trip to the Rhode Island Philharmonic Orchestra in Veteran's Auditorium in Providence, R.I.. I had never heard live music before. I sat there amazed at the sounds of the wonderful orchestra. They played for maybe an hour. Musical pieces completely foreign to me. Instruments and the sounds that came from them enthralled me. My life was changed forever.I went home that day trying to understand what i saw and why I hadn't experienced that before. I knew I wanted more of it and to this day, the quest hasn't ended.

My parents bought a console stereo. It was a contemporary piece of furniture bought more for the furniture than the stereo. One of the first real stereo albums we bought was herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass. I sat for hours, like the RCA dog, listening to the album,switching the stereo left and right to hear the different instruments. Amazing! Al Hirt, a trumpeter from New Orleans, was one of my favorites too.

As I grew up I tended to gravitate towards groups that had that orchestral sound. ELO, Queen, The Beatles, The Moody Blues. Groups that used strings, horns and orchestras in the background. I was hooked.

I remember the first musical play I ever saw. It was in college, freshman year, Edwards auditorium, URI. Fiddler on the Roof, a student production. I was blown away. The singing, acting, orchestra, and spectacle. I had that feeling once again from childhood. I would never be the same.

I, as a parent, did try to show my children how great music was. I think I succeeded. they both love music. Their musical choices are now somewhat different than mine but they know what I like and I think they like some of it too. I did take them to plays and musicals. I got to see that awe in their eyes and I know they were changed forever too.

Bottom line, Life is about being exposed to different experiences because everyone of them helps us grow as a person. Sharing them with someone is tough to beat.

Getting Older

Let me start by saying that this is a compilation of my epiphanies that I get when I have time to contemplate. This happens when I bike and when I drive in my car. This isn't meant to be preachy. Just the observations of a man who has had a good life. I know that life is about changes and growing. I think I am a different person who was a kid, teenager, young man, and middle aged. I have tried to take my experiences, think about them and make changes in my life and more importantly in myself. I know people who have haven't changed. Why? I think they haven't reflected on what has transpired in their lives. Perhaps they think they have always been right. I feel sorry for these people. They have missed a part of aging that isn't depressing. The ability to look at things in a new way. Looking at things not with old eyes but clearer ones. Things coming into focus. Not distortion.


Getting Older is an interesting process. It seems we notice the aging of other people rather than our own. I look at other men of similar ages to my own and I ask myself "Do I look like that?". I notice their waistlines, hairlines, chin lines and all the other lines that come with aging. I look in the mirror and I do see similar results of aging on myself. It's funny but you can really feel them when they occur to you. We may pass them off as some other physical phenomenon but it's aging. It can be depressing if you dwell on it. I tend to laugh and say " compared to them, Damm I look good!". If i didn't I would be depressed.