I have a very inflated sense of the job I've done as a father, I suspect.
Between us, I am in no hurry to open up a dialogue with either (or both) of our now adult children to ask as the late Mayor of New York City Ed Koch became famous for, "How am I doing?" mainly because Mom taught me many years ago to never ask the question if you can't stand the answer.
I've mentioned previously my recollections of my relationship with my father aren't as bright and shiny as some of the ones I read about and as an Irish Catholic whose sense of guilt rivals, if not surpasses that of any of the twelve tribes, I've often wondered just how much of that is my responsibility. See the previous paragraph's last line for why I don't pursue a more strenuous line of inquiry in that direction..
Offered, without comment or alibi masquerading as a reason, is this nugget of (k)nowledge that, after a cursory review, I believe I can safely say I never once asked ANY of the questions contained therein.
So why I remain haunted four-plus decades on by an absence of answers, I suppose, shouldn't be a mystery to me.
-bill kenny
