The 9th Annual "What would you say to your Dad today?" FARK Father's Day thread. Bonus: New Dads what will you tell your child today?
We've been posting this on Fark.com for nine years now. The comments are an amazing study in fatherhood. It has been called "cathartic" by many. It has become "a thing." Get it off your chest. Say the things you would have, could have, should have said... if only you could. (Clickable links to past years below.)
Here's this year's FARK Father's Day thread.
Click the link below to join in the conversation.
The 9th Annual "What would you say to your Dad today?" FARK Father's Day thread.
Bonus: New Dads what will you tell your child today?
There are only two things I do well with my eyes closed: play guitar and type. I can't reach my guitar. Sorry.
There is a thing that men, Dads in particular, do. It's really stupid and self-destructive. It's a tough lesson and you have to learn it the hard way. We can't fix everything. There I said it. We can't fix everything.
The reason they call the hard times in your life “the hard times in your life” is because they aren't easy …and that's OK. It is OK to not get everything done; it is OK to forget a detail in the midst of a crisis. It is not OK to put your feelings on hold and just press on like you don't feel it. It messes with your head. It screws up your body as it screams for you to rest. You aren't helping if you make yourself sick, angry, frustrated or impotent.
However, this isn't what we do. What we do is push harder, putting on "the face," ignoring pain and exhaustion and pressing on, trying to fix things we can't fix with tools that are dull from lack of sleep.
If, in conjunction with your emotional impotence, you happen to have health issues, this is a recipe for disaster in your relationships as your frustration mounts and you begin to feel helpless about things that you cannot control.
There is a special thing that happens now on the internet as we are more and more open to making friends with people nowhere near us, friends of friends or folks that find your video on youtube and hook up on SocNets. It isn’t just Facebook, but this happened to us there.
Through a case of mistaken identity we became friends with a lovely lady singer who happens to be friends with some of our other friends. She laughed with us when we found out she wasn’t who we thought she was but right then we became internet friends, connected through laughter, music and our musical friends.
We shared, as we all do, our limited view of each other’s lives, highs and lows, shows and pics of friends and gigs and food. She had a voice like an angel and we loved seeing her stage energy. It showed even in the still pics. You could just tell she was a joy to work with and that she took it very seriously. Studied it, listened to everything, found her voice, nurtured it and was continuing to grow while delighting audiences wherever she went. Her smile alone was enough to know her, so genuine and wide.
Quietly her posts became less frequent and soon came the post about the state of her health. Diagnosed, under treatment, hair falling out, she valiantly carried on. Smiling pics, lots of scarves, she returned for a bit, even gigged a bit if I’m not mistaken. With endless support from hundreds of friends, fans and family she stayed positive and we all hoped against hope… and then she was gone.
We knew her only there, so there is where we heard the news. There on my feed with the gun nuts, cat pics, silly memes and gig pics, a note from a family member that she was being made comfortable and soon another that she was gone. The anguish of her loved ones through those hours transmitted by the silence in between. As it is the way it goes, I saw both posts at the same time when I checked in to Facebook that evening and yet I could feel the hours as they passed in a blink.
I read her friends’ love and pain on her wall now and cried again… and again.
I heard her music, and I cried again.
It’s true you know, those things you hear about the “5 Stages of Grief.”
I’ll admit to mine… 1. Oh no?! Not her! 2. Why did I let myself get so invested in a stranger? 3. If only I had arranged a gig close enough so our paths would have crossed, we’d have sung together and hugged. 4. How our lives are changed by this odd relationship. She probably had no idea how much we liked her. We ran out of time. 5. I have nothing to offer the family, no good stories to relate how much we loved her. A prayer and maybe this article will offer us closure.
My wife and I were touched by her exuberance, her joie de la vie, her voice and her courage. She inspires me to be a better student of music and singer of songs. Not really knowing her at all, I’d describe her as free and easy. Is that too cliche? That’s how she made me feel. I embrace this part of social networking as I must with my IRL meatspace friends. We are friends, it doesn’t matter if I’ve never laid eyes on you or touched your hand or hugged your neck. It doesn’t matter. I have to mourn their loss as if I “actually knew them.” What matters to me now , more than ever, is that I let you know how I feel… before one of us is gone.
I love you, my internet friends, each and every one of you. Late at night I stalk your walls and feeds and keep up with what you’re doing. I see the pics of your kids and the smiles on your faces and I read about your pain, and pray with you for loved ones. I listen to all your stuff eventually and I try and keep up but it’s just too much. Don’t let me forget you; stay in touch and keep us posted and we’ll try and do the same.
Humans. We’re a connected internet family now, a community. As we begin to act like it more, as it becomes more real, we suffer the loss of faraway friends as if they were right here. One moment talking under my fingers, on my screen, and then poof, you’re gone.
Goodnight Alisa B., sweet angel. Join the choir, my internet friend; I’ll be able to hear you from there.
We’ve been posting this on Fark.com for eight years now. The comments are an amazing study in fatherhood. It has been called “cathartic” by many. It has become “a thing.” Get it off your chest. Say the things you would have, could have, should have said… if only you could. (Clickable links to past years below.)
Here’s this year’s FARK Father’s Day thread.
Click the link below to join in the conversation!
Our eighth year: What would you say to your Dad today if you could?
Fathers, what would you say to your child?
By Dan Grigor
I grew up on the guitar. Got my first one, a toy, at 4 years old and my first real one a year later. It was a thing of beauty. My dad bought it for me. It was handmade in Spain and it came with free flamenco guitar lessons in the Bronx. That became our visitation outing. My Dad would come by and pick me up in the Cadillac and we’d ride downtown… walk up the creaky wooden stairs and learn music… some of my fondest memories. Thus began my addiction, obsession and passion for the guitar.
There are few guitar players who have been more influential in my life than B.B. King.
Click through for more!
Never Forget. Never forget that for some people 911 isn't about politics or conspiracy, it isn't about hate or war. Never forget that for some people it is a very intimate day of sorrow. Never forget that families are missing pieces. Dads are gone, Uncles are gone, Brothers are gone, Moms and Sons, Daughters and Friends and the families are left with missing pieces. Our family is missing pieces. That day touched everyone but not like that.
Now, it is an ipso facto national holiday and a despicable excuse for commercial abuse and hate. That is what they have to deal with every year on the anniversary of their very intimate day of sorrow.
Please take a quiet moment today and send some love to the families with missing pieces.
Oh, and maybe you could go hug everyone you love that you can reach and call the ones you can't. Tell them all out loud that you love them. If you tell them enough maybe they will never forget.
We've been posting this on Fark.com for seven years now. The comments are an amazing study in fatherhood. It has been called "cathartic" by many. It has become "a thing." Get it off your chest. Say the things you would have, could have, should have said if only you could. (Clickable links to past years below.)
Here's this year's FARK Father's Day thread.
Click the link below to join in the conversation!
Seven years running: what would you say to your Dad today if you could?
See you soon,
Here are all the previous years' FARK threads.
Take the time to read through some of the heartwarming -
and heartbreaking - "Dear Daddy" letters.
I kept my day job. The money was really good. Union Crane Operator in the 70s. Easy Money. The rip track is where trains go to get repaired. We kept them up to code, we changed knuckles and wheels, we straightened and repaired ladders and catwalks and whatnot. We would heat stuff up with torches and hit it with big hammers. We used welders and huge pneumatic jacks, two of which could lift the ass end of a train a foot off the ground… in seconds. Set the jack, hit the pneumatics, BAM! Train, up in the air.
We also changed boxcar doors. Boxcar doors are huge. Think about it. They cover the hole in THE SIDE OF A TRAIN! So changing them is not as easy as it sounds. It takes manpower, chain hoists or come-alongs and a crane. I drove the crane.
Here’s this year’s FARK thread. Click the link below to join in!
Wow, our sixth year. Reading through the Fark threads again and, once again, amazed at the results. It seems it is a good thing. Let’s do it again. (Clickable links below)
This year I would speak to my Dad on behalf of my brother, Alan, who died this year. My little brother was a casualty of divorce. Young enough to know he had a dad, not old enough to really get to know him.
Click through for the whole story.
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