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Discovery of a Father
Children are often proud of their fathers , but the narrator was not because he thought his father was a man without dignity. But , all of a sudden one night , his low opinion of his father dramatically turns into admiration . Read on to find out how this happened .
One of the strangest relationships in the world is that between father and son. I know it now from having sons of my own.
A boy wants something very special from his father. You hear it said that fathers want their sons to be what they feel
they cannot themselves be, but I tell you it also works the other way. I know that as a small boy I wanted my father
to be a certain thing he was not. I wanted him to be a proud, silent, dignified father. When I was with other boys
and he passed along the street, I wanted to feel a glow of pride: "There he is. That is my father. "
But he wasn't such a one. He couldn't be. It seemed to me then that he was always showing off. Let's say someone in our town had got up a show. They were always doing it. The druggist would be in it , the shoe-store clerk, the horse doctor, and a lot of women and girls. My father would manage to get the chief comedy part. It was, let's say, a Civil War play and he was a comic Irish soldier. He had to do the most absurd things. They thought he was funny, but I didn't.
I thought he was terrible. I didn't see how Mother could stand it. She even laughed with the others. Maybe I would have laughed if it hadn't been my father.
Or there was a parade, the Fourth of July or Decoration Day. He'd be in that, too, right at the front of it, as Grand Marshal or something, on a white horse hired from a livery stable.
He couldn't ride at all. He fell off the horse and everyone hooted with laughter, but he didn't care. He even seemed to like it. I remember once when he had done something ridiculous, and right out on main Street, too. I was with some other boys and they were laughing and shouting at him and he was shouting back and having as good a time as they were. I ran down an alley back of some stores and there in the church sheds I had a good long cry.
Or I would be in bed at night and Father would come home a little lit up and bring some men with him.
He was a man who was never alone. Before he went broke, running a harness shop, there were always a lot
of men loafing in the shop. He went broke, of course, because he gave too much credit. He could not refuse
it and I thought he was a fool. I had got to hating him.
There'd be men I didn't think would want to be fooling around with him. There might even be the superintendent of our schools and a quiet man who ran the hardware store. Once, I remember, there was a white-haired man who was a cashier of the bank. It was a wonder to me they'd want to be seen with such a windbag. That's what I thought he was. I know now what it was that attracted them. It was because life in our town, as in all small towns, was at times pretty dull and he livened it up. He made them laugh. He could tell stories. He'd even get them to singing.
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