I am and I will. Fail again and again

 I failed and tried to create a version of me that you would love and respect. It was a fools errand. We can’t create love and/or respect. It’s only earned or given. 

And I never earned it. For the last 5 years I walked at on eggshells for years and I still lost, I still failed. 

If I was the arrogant ass you make me be I wouldn’t have tried. I wouldn’t have censored myself. I wouldn’t have given up drinking for a year to see if it would actually change things. I did those things. I gave up things. I tried. 

No one noticed. Nothing about my personality that people disliked went away. 

I could blame alcohol. I could curry favor with my bold decision to no drink. What I truly learned is that my personality is the problem, my ego, my self. 

Not drinking didn’t fix it. Not swearing or being a slave to the gospel or rules didn’t make me more likable. 

I was an asshole. I am an asshole. There is not get out of jail free card for that. I have to learn to get better. I’m trying. Been trying. But being a self righteous asshole doesn’t change over night. 

What you saw about me. I am. I’m trying to change it, but I was quite proficient as an asshole. So it’s at best a failure in progress. 

It’s not a situation. Or chemical. I’m functionally bad at interpersonal conduct. 

I get it. I’m trying to fix it. Heal it. But it’s objectively fucked for now. You don’t have to expect it to get better or even give me the chance. But so I can live with myself. I have to try. 

The Things You Have Never Been Told

 You are 17. You feel you know everything. But there are a lot things you've never been told. 

The bridge is already burning. There is not reason not to say it anymore. 

You have been sold a bill of goods that doesn't check out. 

I am a failure at many things. I am not good at many things. But I have given and I have tried. The voices that tell you what they want you to hear have their own biases. And now I have nothing to lose. I've already lost that which is most important to me. 

In your vitriol and angry texts, you told me I have never thought of anyone but myself. And that is true in many ways. I am self-absorbed. Selfish. Arrogant. 

But perhaps here are a few things from my biased perspective that you never got to hear. 

Yes. I was the one who said that things weren't working. I was the one who said we needed to live apart and figure things out. She was the one who called my parents and said I left her. She didn't call her own parents, she called mine. And they chose you. My parents chose you over me. And you ignore texts from the only one of them that is still alive. For everything he isn't, my father chose you over me and you won't even text him back. 

Once my parents rejected me and chose her and you and Peyton. I was left with a choice. Stay in a job that I dreamed about, be a shit father, or abandon that job as I had been abandoned, because like my parents I felt it was the right thing to do. 

So I did my best to find a job in Minnesota. It took time. But I still paid for everything I could. While she had no income and lived in my parent's home. 

I found a job, and I moved back. I tried to figure out a way through. It was clear from the moment that I got back that reconciliation was not an option. I was hated. I would never be forgiven for saying things weren't working. 

I worked at a job and failed. I couldn't balance being at work and hating myself and being hated by everyone who knew me. I failed at that job. 

I found another job. I failed again. In the meantime while I was failing I said I wanted to have you with me every other day. And we had some good times. I loved our placed in Mac-Grove where you two slept on the bunkbeds in the same room as I on a twin bed. We walked to the park, we watched videos and played games in that space. 

I got laid off in spring of 2010. Daycare was exceptionally expensive. With my failure to have a job, it was not an option to pay the $2000 per month for your day care. The oldest was off to school so that lessened the burden a bit. But I was faced with a choice. Pursue full time work or find a night and weekend job so we could avoid daycare. 

To be honest, if I could find a thing that worked and got to stay home with you when you were not in school, that would be pretty amazing. And it was and we did. Parks and museums, lunch at the Tap with friends and their kids. I will never regret for a moment the chance to have those moments with you. 

It felt like worked. I had a flexible schedule, which allowed your mother to dip out for 2.5 summers to get her PHD in Pennsylvania. If I had chased a 9-5 career in this time it never would have worked. But I loved the summers and the time with you. I had the benefit of my rent being subsidized by my parents who owned the place we lived. I was happy for the time with you and honestly felt it was fair that I support your mother in her pursuit of a PhD. I could never make her happy but it seemed that her academic pursuits did. 

After 4 years of taking jobs that made it easier for me to be with you before you were in school, you were in kindergarten and I had the flexibility to chase something else. I thought it would be in the brewing industry and I had laid groundwork for that. But it didn't work out. As many things don't. 

So I found a steady income and a schedule that I could control. I have fond memories of taking you two to school but first stopping by the store and counting in the register or the inventory. Of being proud of my space, the place that I managed. 

Eventually, I let another person's opinion impact my perception of that job. I have always done things to please myself as it pertains to how others perceive me. I left that job because I felt you could never be proud of me and that as a career. I do think that this was another of my many mistakes. 

So I took a corporate job and a brewery job on the side. I tossed away everything I had created through Blue Plate, the beer training I was so proud of, and the key hourly position. I left Goldy's when it fit our schedule all out of hubris, I wasn't proud of my career and I didn't think either of you would be either. 

It was a mistake. I worked for a year in real estate which wasn't a good fit. I felt like an indentured servant to the overlords. When my boss tasked me with putting together a bookshelf at his home, I finally realized how little I meant to the company. 

So I jumped at the first other option. And it was another mistake, a financial company that didn't really know what they wanted to do or be. I had 7 different supervisors in the 3.3 years there. I was so busy that I started to miss things. Couldn't make it to events. I failed in a whole new way. 

As a result, you both decided not to live with me anymore. That broke a lot of what was left of my fight. I get it, Mom's house is clean and more organized. She's got rules and standards, I have chaos and conflict. 

I didn't take it well. I took it personally. I felt rejected. I felt like a failure. All things that time have proven that I was. And am. 

I left Kentucky. I gave up a dream job so I could be a decent dad. And I failed at that. It hit really hard. And I didn't deal with it well. Why did I leave if I was just going to fail as a father anyway? 

Then I tried to make it right. I didn't make enough changes. Then covid hit. Suddenly, my parenting time is gone. I am reduced to parking my car outside the house when there is a report of neo-Nazi at the park next door and hoping I don't have to act. But personally hoping I get to, because if they take me out, at least it was me trying. 

That summer sucked. I barely saw you. I barely got to be a dad. Right before covid, we were playing catch, and it meant so much. Not the sporting part but the shared experience. That I will never get again. 

Then we sold the house, the house we lived in for years, neither of you wanted anything to do with it. You were out. 

Everyone moved. Mom and Dad. Andrew. Friends. I moved too. I wanted you to be proud of my new clear and fresh place. But you shrugged. 

As the covid pandemic continued, I fucked up. I lost my ability to drive and my car due to my own selfish, stupid, and thankfully not deadly action. It was my fault but it put another nail in the coffin of communication and connection. 

And I lost you both a bit more as well. 

I have been trying for three years to get some foothold back. To try and support while also acknowledging that I am a failed and broken person. 

It has worked on some level and failed momentously on another. 

Since I made the mistake of questioning my marriage in 2007. Life has not gotten better. I should likely have just never said anything and lived in silence. I spent much of the next 6 years subjugating my career for your mother's anyway. At least if I was a miserable husband, I might have gotten some credit. 

I am not a perfect or good father. But I have done a lot of good things and things that went against my best personal interests over the past 18 years that I do not regret. I regret much of my life after 2007. I regret much of my daily actions. I fret and overthink. I wish I had been better. I never regret the moments with my kids. Those are the only things that make sense. 

But it is unfair to tell me I only ever thought of myself. It is unfair to claim that I don't give a damn. It is disingenuous to look at our shared history and tell me I am nothing. 

You are everything to me. And I don't think you know everything I have done. 

You have every right to hate me. But I have every right to tell you more. 

The Horcruxes Will Don't Know We Have (In a good Way)

Since somewhere in the Harry Potter story I have been entranced with the idea of a part of your soul being tied to a moment or a thing or even a person. I have seen this often in my life. A smell that makes me 16 and wide-eyed. A taste that feels like comfort. A song that makes my eyes well or my anger rise.


I think we all have them and Rowling who has sullied her legacy in multiple ways over the years did give voice to something that feels very real. We pour part of ourselves into a moment, memory or manifestation that holds those feelings as a static thing in space-time.


I do believe that we all have important memories, things that connect with our identification of self that have nothing to do with wizards or fantasy or some book. But they have everything to do with memory and sense and sensation.


After 24 years, I think I finally saw one of mine tonight. It would be epic and brilliant if it was a magical sword or some mystical beast. Or even a diary.


But true to form, for me, it was something much simpler.


Steak and eggs.


I mean not just any steak and eggs, I have enjoyed many that were awesome and most that were meh.


But this particular part of my soul is steak and eggs from a singular place and at a specific time. A time that I clearly long for and cherish. Even if it took 20 years to figure it out.


I'm not particularly quick.


If you've read anything in this space in the period of ever or had the misfortune to read some social media post I made after midnight and deleted shortly after dawn the next day. I have been struggling for a while. 1989? Maybe. 1999? Probably. 2009? Yeah. 2019? Why are you asking send in the clowns?!


Through all of my struggles. I have had angels, both human and probably simply my imagination. I for the most part I have been aware (maybe not as much I thought) to the existence of these forces. Or so I thought .


And then tonight as I was feeling low, even after a day that gave me little reason to feel so, I did a thing.


I ordered a specific food, from a specific place.


A conversation I had with the musician who played tonight at the local establishment was the trigger for my new understanding.


I asked him what the first song he learned to play on the guitar. He said, Horse with No Name by America.


In that instance, I was mentally if not corporally transported to a moment in 1999 or 2000. At the Roseville Perkins. The place that we underaged kids who didn't even know of the idea of a fake ID could to go when we were all up at 2 am.


We would pack my 1985 Buick Century, nicknamed, Grandpa Toad's Wild Ride with as many people as possible. Bench seats in the front and back meant that 8-9 was easy. I think the record when we got pulled over by a very annoyed cop was 13. Was it safe? No. But we were all sober and awake and didn't have the impulse or the access to fix either thing.


13 people in a Buick and the cop got a call that stopped him from giving the owner of the car a ticket. I might not be blessed by a higher power at that moment but my father may have been.


After 24 years the details blend together. I don't know the date or the moment of the memory. But I do know the song, the feeling and the laughter and smiles.


5 or 6 or 7 of us were crammed into a booth at the Roseville Perkins at least 2 am. I had suggested or convinced everyone who was up to go get food. In my brain, it was always my idea. I have learned in the years in between that many of my people knew how much it was important to me to feel like it was my idea. The details matter less and less as the years go on and I am prone to remembering myself in the best light.


But the most powerful moment sticks with me. We had ordered already, some got pancakes or a muffin, others just water, I being my grandiose self remember ordering steak and eggs. I can not be truthful that in this one moment I did order this or perhaps it was a cumulative memory of ordering the most seemingly audacious thing possible out of ego at 2 am at a suburban Perkins.


That isn't the moment though. Seems like it was because I made you listen to it being about my menu choice but that's author bias. That wasn't the moment.


The moment as I remember it was after we had all ordered. As we sat crammed into a booth probably meant for 4 people. A song came on the radio. Conversation, likely largely and loudly dictated by me slowly faded away as we (in my memory) all one by one started to sing along with the PA/jukebox song. Slowly the lyrics caught us each and we listened, and maybe even started to sing along.


On the first part of the journey
I was looking at all the life
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
There was sand and hills and rings
The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz
And the sky with no clouds
The heat was hot and the ground was dry
But the air was full of sound
I've been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can't remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain
La la la la la la...
It was as the chorus hit that we all seemed to remember something, one at a time and then all together. As a memory of memories goes, I may tend to be more on the dramatic side but I do remember the majority of us ending the chorus in unison.
After two days in the desert sun
My skin began to turn red
And after three days in the desert fun
I was looking at a river bed
And the story it told of a river that flowed
Made me sad to think it was dead
You see I've been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can't remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain
La la la la la la...
After nine days I let the horse run free
'Cause the desert had turned to sea
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
There was sand and hills and rings
The ocean is a desert with its life underground
And a perfect disguise above
Under the cities lies a heart made of ground
But the humans will give no love
You see I've been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can't remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain
La la la la la la...
Thank you all very much
Take care of yourselves, take care


The song ended and I'm sure I made some attempt to tell everyone who sang it, even though in my soul I had no idea. A discussion ensued and smarter ones prevailed and we came to understand who wrote it and sang it.


We finished our meals and we headed back to the dorms, lucky to avoid any cops wondering how many people actually fit in a Buick Century from 1985.


But that brings us to today's epiphany.


After a mostly good day, a few hiccups emotionally and tactically but nothing worth a full report, I was making my way home. And I wanted to get there and eat and feel safe and happy.


I ordered Steak and Eggs from the Roseville Perkins.


I have done this literally nigh on 100 times before without really understanding what I was trying to order.


The food is fine. It's meh. But that's not why I do it.


I think I realized today that what I want when I order that specific food from that specific location is a taste of that moment from years ago.


Community. Connection. Vulnerability. Jealousy. Machismo. All the good and the bad.


I want my food to transport me back to that singular night when we all sang a bit together.


Since I moved back to MN in 2007 I have ordered steak and eggs from Perkins in Roseville chasing a connection to that night or that moment or that memory of many nights and moments.


I just didn't realize why until tonight. It doesn't make the food taste any better or worse. But it does give it more meaning. And to be fair, that's more than anyone should expect from after midnight steak and eggs delivery.


To all of those who spent time those years late night at Perkins or elsewhere, on a park bench or walking through campus. I don't know that I ever really thanked or appreciated that. Due to a lot of things that have happened since to college and in my own ego.


And I'm not sure it's a great marketing campaign for Perkins. They can't be everyone's horcrux. But I'm glad they are one of mine.