A lifetime of my father attempting to bring me to heel.
Last edited Fri Jun 13, 2025, 09:53 PM - Edit history (1)
It started at age 2. I lied about brushing my teeth. Instead of explaining to me why I should brush my teeth and not lie, I was swooped up in the air, laid across his knees, and given two hard swats on my ass. Both my derriere and my trust in my father ached long afterwards.
Childhood: My father was easy to anger if things didn't go exactly his way. Yelled. Terrified. So bad that when the babysitter threatened to call our parents at the restaurant (it was a bluff), I went hysterical. So scared of what would happen if they had to leave mid-meal to come home and teach me a lesson.
High School: More of the same. Fast forward to when I was exactly 18 years and one week. I had a 5:00 curfew. I missed it and didn't call to say I would be late. Dad had the police file an APB on me and the town was scoured to find me. I was supposed to leave for college in less than six months and he was doing this.
College: Essentially, my father chose my college. It had to be all women. And he put me on the "restricted floor" where you could not sign in male visitors, save for two hours on Sundays. And he also chose my initial roommate that the college arbitrarily chose. He was on the phone, insisting that I be given another roommate. Why? Because she was Vietnamese. I begged him not to do it, but he did. I ended up with a roommate who moved out after a week and then the third roommate ran away in March to go to San Francisco.
Post-College: I had found a place to live in Washington, D.C. Big ole Victorian home. Home of the former Chief Justice of the D.C. Circuit Court (Henry Edgerton). Dad insisted on seeing it and freaked out. Literally, the night before I graduated, he humiliated me in front of my friends and told me I wasn't going to be moving to D.C. to that house. And I buckled.
Fast Forward. I was 32 and had been admitted to law school. Out of my father's house and living on my own. I qualified for a scholarship for tuition, but Dad insisted on paying for the three years. I was working at his doctors office until school started. A contretemps broke out b/c one woman was not doing her job. (Exhibit One: she was scheduling her son's bar mitzvah.) I didn't take her side, which infuriated Dad. He made it a point to make me go out to dinner alone with him. Where he concocted a BS story that b/c of me, the doctors office would have to close, and therefore, no money for law school, which was going to start in three weeks.
I had enough. I had no job. No law school. But also no more paternal BS. Independence Day.
It was one thing to discipline me when I was a minor, when I was in college, when I lived in his home. But I was 32 and sick of it all.
I simply leaned back in my chair, took a sip of wine, and told him cooly that it was his prerogative. Took away his oxygen.
He eventually paid for law school and I graduated.
I was not brought "to heel". Don't get me wrong. He still tried until I was 57 and he died.
I suppose my point is my own father used every psychological device to break me, to make me "obedient". It didn't work. Each test was a struggle.
And I suppose as well when I read about TSF essentially doing to same thing to those in opposition to him, it brings back memories. And I'm primed for a new battle. I've done this before and I'm ready to be the last one standing (again).
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