It makes sense to feel a connection with the person who shares DNA with your child(ren), which must be confusing for a woman who has kids with more than one father. How do you keep all that straight?
John Walton or “Pa” Ingalls would find plenty to wear in my closet: flannel shirts and jeans. Dress shirts. Even a tie.
I’ve (almost) become the kind of man I wanted to find as a life partner, a “Pa” rather than a Hef: solid and dependable, albeit not much fun.
I haven’t forced myself into situations in which I had the opportunity to make enough mistakes in the carpentry/plumbing/electrical sphere to be fully competent.
Aside from that, I’m a hell of a guy: hard-working, loyal, self-disciplined, sacrificing for the family.
In some ways, I was raised as a Jewish boy: good grades, good debating skills, well-read, serious, happy with small things like coffee and a newspaper in the morning.
Sharing my head but not my heart.
After this past week, I’m starting to feel like I’m missing out: an appreciation of art and fashion. A feminine style and attitude. Something back there in Cambridge in 1969 that got lost along the way.
There’s more. I’ll return to this entry as it comes to me.