I did my annual visit to my father yesterday. I haven't talked a lot about my father here because I'm uncomfortable with the topic. I suppose it might come as shock to learn that the person who fathered twelve children with a manic depressive had a few problems.

He was always messed up, but in the mid 80s he really managed to do something incredibly bad. In college I had this interesting chemistry professor from Colorado. I got this third hand, but apparently his natural father was a bank robber. This professor could remember when he was less than ten the police finally caught up to his father, and he threatened to kill his whole family if they did not let him go free. My father's fuckup in the 80s was slightly worse than this. He didn't go to jail but he probably should have. I don't feel comfortable saying much more about it.

So anyway, most of us have little to do with him anymore. My mother gets upset when his name is even mentioned, and a few of my siblings have absolutely no contact with him. My oldest sister and her children visit with him now and then, and my sister the nun (9 of 12) sees him whenever she is home. My father understands that he screwed up and doesn't really expect us to visit. He has a new wife and her family occupies much of his time.

Personally, I feel a certain sense of obligation which might have something to do with problems I have had with my ex and my daughter. I'm not keen on visiting with the old man but it is something I feel like I have to do every now and then.

So I went out to visit him and give him a Christmas present. He is retired from his factory job now and putters around on his wife's farm, taking care of her animals, gardening, and planning home improvements. He also volunteers for the fire department and has some social contacts through that.

We had a nice visit but it is kind of creepy visiting him. He knew I was coming but he didn't bother to put in his false teeth and was wearing a ratty tee shirt when I showed up. He also seemed a little too pre-occupied with telling me which of his animals had been euthanized or had died. He is pleasant enough but there is something that is just not right with the guy. I brought some pictures of his newest grandchildren but he only gave them cursory attention, and not because it hurt to look at them, but because he really didn't seem too interested.

It is easy to see how he and my mother ended up together. They were both exceptionally bright and exceptionally screwed up people. Still, the entire family was glad when they got divorced. Not something you see a lot of, children getting gleeful when their parents separate. But we all knew that these were two people who weren't good for each other, at least not at that stage in their lives.

The high school principal at the local school watched all of us grow up, and he tells my sister 2 of 12 that it still sort of amazes him that so many of us have done as well as we have given who our parents were. I guess a few extra I.Q. points are good for something, and I think that many of us saw academic success as a way of not ending up like our parents. My father told me that he really had not wanted any of us to turn out like him, and he considers himself successful. Most of us came out with at least a few scars though, so I'm going to pass on giving him credit. It's a bit like giving a bully credit for building character in the kid he tormented.