About a month ago I posted a few times about how great my dad was. Then a few days ago I posted that my dad was an alcoholic. I know some people probably don't understand how an alcoholic could possibly be a great dad, especially after hearing and reading so many horror stories from people who blame all their problems on being the child of an alcoholic. Granted, there were some pretty bad times because of my dad's drinking. But I choose not to dwell on those, just as I chose not to dwell on it when I was growing up. Yes, my dad was an alcoholic, but that didn't mean I couldn't do my best in school and still follow my dreams, which I did. I'm sure school, especially high school, would have been a lot better if I could have invited friends to my house without being afraid of what might be going on there. But that didn't stop me from going out with friends and getting involved in school activities. I suppose in a lot of ways I'm luckier than most children of alcoholics. My dad told me he loved me often. He managed to hold down a very good job. A lot of the money went to booze, but my brother and sister and I still got everything we wanted, we went on several family vacations and we lived in a nice big house. My mother didn't have to work unless she wanted to, which she rarely did. As I look back, I realize that the financial situation was probably worse than I remembered, but I believe that's because my mother did the best she could under the circumstances and never let on that money was tight. So, I could choose to remember the day my dad called me a bitch because I said I wasn't going to set foot in the house again until he stopped drinking. Or, I could choose to remember the Saturday nights he made homemade pizza for us or the Sunday nights he made popcorn and we'd all sit around watching The Wonderful World of Disney on television. I could choose to remember watching him stagger up the hill after work and a few hours at the bar. Or, I could choose to remember our trips to Gettysburg and Washington, D.C., where he instilled in me my love of history. Obviously, I remember both the good and the bad. But I choose to keep the good in the forefront and bring up the bad only when it's necessary.
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