Wind Blown and Rain Soaked Chaos

I am not my father.

He limited himself. He isolated himself. And yet, he made an impression on people that crossed his path. He was wise about some things, but he grew up teased and abused in school. That colored his attitudes about success, achievement, and education. He was not a supporter of higher education. He preferred to learn things on his own. I’m like that. If there is something that I need to learn I don’t have to take a class, or go to school. I seek out the necessary resources and muddle through until I have found my way. In the workplace, I’m the guy who ends up learning the new technology and introducing it to everyone else.

I am not my father.

He spent most of his life doing a single job. In his youth, he had a few jobs and in the end he found it hard to find work because of a limited skill set and his age. I have had many jobs and possess a skill set that is diverse and unique. I’m not young, but I am resourceful. Admittedly, I have walked away from unpleasant working environments in the hopes of finding something better or something better suited to my creative temperament.

I am not my father.

My father took a leap of faith late in his life and invested his pension in a restaurant. As a theater manager for most of his life, he dealt with candy counters and snack bars, so he knew something about running a concession, but running a restaurant didn’t work out. He eventually ran out of money and had to be rescued from eviction. He spent his final days with me and my wife…before and after marriage. It took him awhile to find work, but it wasn’t long before he became ill. He died of pancreatic cancer.

I am not my father.

He liked to tell stories, but he never wrote them down. Many of his stories ended in non sequiturs, but he kept his listeners engaged. I like to share my stories. Besides using words, I find personal pleasure in taking pictures. I have mastered the art of photography and videography. And, I am always looking for new ways to express myself.

I am not my father.

My father went to a trade school where he learned Traffic Management. That’s what they called Shipping and Receiving in my father’s time. After earning his certification, he discovered that he couldn’t pass the physical. He walked with a limp due to a birth defect and somewhere along the line he was told that he had a brain tumor. There was never anything wrong with his mind and the limp went away once you got to know him. My father would never dance in public, but sometimes, late at night after a few Canadian Club and sodas, he would hold my mother in his arms and sway to music from one of his favorite recordings. I am not a great dancer. I learned to tap dance for a Bicentennial production of George M and I took swing dance lessons with my daughter.

I am not my father.

My father is dead, but remembered fondly by many. I am alive and well and living in Grass Valley.

Mike Maginot 4/21/2013