The Big Wheel

“And it’s you when I look in the mirror.” U2, Sometimes You Can’t Make It on Your Own

I’ve begun to wonder if women who look/act more like their fathers are somehow different than those who look/act like their mothers or both/neither parents. Are we more ‘masculine’ in some way? Do we relate to men differently? For example, I have always had boy(space)friends. I once went two years without any, and they were the worst years of my life, coincidence? Yes, I am a feminist, and of course I love my female friends and relatives, but I never stopped being a tomboy. I wonder if it’s because I am so much like my Dad.

It is my father’s birthday today. I would not say I am close to my father, I don’t confide in him. But I am close to him in a way that I can barely put into words, yet I am always aware of. I heard the following phrases growing up (I still hear most of them to this day, and probably will for the rest of my life):

“You’re Donnie’s girl, aren’t cha?”
“You look just like Donnie when he was a boy.”
“You look just like your father.”
“You hold your pen just like your father.”
“You have the same handwriting as your father.”
“You have your father’s mannerisms.”
“That’s what your father would say.”*
“You’re just like your father!”

*Mom said that to me during a heavy conversation we had about religion. I said we create our own meaning. That was her reply.

I never saw the resemblance, until one day I was looking through old photo albums and I saw some pictures of Dad from high school and university, and I was stunned. I saw my own eyes, the same worried look. We really don’t have to talk to each other very much. I have spent many car trips with him in comfortable silence. We are both pretty quiet, but there is so much going on in our minds, and writing is an outlet (we’re both writers). Books, notepads, and magazines orbit around us almost constantly. But he wanted me to be different from him, too. Growing up, I was pushed into sports (until he finally gave up, because I’m just as stubborn as he is). I think he realized that I had inherited his heaviness and shyness, and was trying to mitigate their effects. It didn’t help, but I was able to help myself when I was an adult. He also wanted me to follow in his footsteps and become a fisheries biologist. Yeah, I have zero interest in fish (sorry, Dad). But I think I am honouring him by pursuing an academic career. He never emphasized making money, but he stressed doing something that is interesting and useful, not with anything he said, but by example. I know he would die a little if I became a stockbroker or something like that. For both of us, it is absolutely necessary to have a passion (also known as dorkiness). His passion is being outdoors, and fly fishing. I have a deep love of nature, which I could only have gotten from him. Those camping and canoe trips paid off! My passions are more diffuse; a deep need to know, to learn, to experience, not only in school, but in every area of my life. That dorkiness came from him.

As I get older, I am more and more in awe at the power of genetics as I see how much I am like my father. My mother is my friend, by choice. But with Dad, there never was any choice; it was coded in my DNA. Thank you, Dad, for helping me with my homework as I cried over math books from the ages 5 to 18. Thank you for never raising your voice in anger, ever. Thank you for taking me to see Cabaret. Thank you for you.

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