We were looking at Real Housewives of Atlanta the other day. There is an issue of whether Nene and Phaedra know each other. Apparently, they grew up in Athens, GA. In small towns, it's common for people to "know of" each other than to actually "know" each other. Nene said that she and Phaedra were/are not friends. They didn't hang out with each other, go to school together, or work together. Phaedra's comeback was, "why did you call me if you don't know me?" Well, if I were trying to do something and someone I was "familiar" with could help me accomplish my goal, why wouldn't I call them? So, in all the time that Phaedra and Nene's been in Atlanta, the only contact between them was a phone call over ten years ago? Does a phone call mean you know someone? If you have no contact with someone, is it fair to say that you don't know them? Or, if you can point out a person on the street that you're familiar with, do you know them?
This brings me to my dilemma. For all intents and purposes, my father left home the day he married my mother. He spent my childhood years going back and forth to prison. He made appearances in my life every two or three years until my mother decided that she'd had enough. I was fifteen by then. As we were discussing RHOA, I used my relationship with my father to explain what Nene was saying. I may know my father by sight, but I don't know him. I had to explain what I "know" about my father compared to her. I know my mothers family. We see each other two maybe three times per year. I know that she doesn't like chocolate. I know where she grew up, who some of her friends are, when she graduated from high school, her relationship with her family members. I know she was a majorette and played the oboe in high school. (I've seen her yearbook picture.) I know that she doesn't have a favorite food or color. I know why she doesn't have a perm. She loves old school blues from Bessie Smith to Muddy Waters. My mother doesn't agree. She said that my father was around enough and I was old enough to have memories of him.
I do have memories of my father. I readily admit that I know what he looks like. I told her that I don't know of my father. I know nothing about him. She told me the little that I know about him. Which is nothing. If my life depended on it, I wouldn't be able to say anything good or bad about him. Your kids should be able to say that my dad is lame. He likes bell bottom pants and butterfly collars. Or, "you should see his yearbook picture". Or he graduated from high school in ____...Or, my dad's favorite color is...Or his first girlfriend's name was...Or _____ gave him his first kiss...Or his first bike was a...I've never wished him happy birthday, Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas, or happy Valentine's Day. I think that's a shame.
Here's my point. I recognize the lady who lives next door. But, I don't know her.
This brings me to my dilemma. For all intents and purposes, my father left home the day he married my mother. He spent my childhood years going back and forth to prison. He made appearances in my life every two or three years until my mother decided that she'd had enough. I was fifteen by then. As we were discussing RHOA, I used my relationship with my father to explain what Nene was saying. I may know my father by sight, but I don't know him. I had to explain what I "know" about my father compared to her. I know my mothers family. We see each other two maybe three times per year. I know that she doesn't like chocolate. I know where she grew up, who some of her friends are, when she graduated from high school, her relationship with her family members. I know she was a majorette and played the oboe in high school. (I've seen her yearbook picture.) I know that she doesn't have a favorite food or color. I know why she doesn't have a perm. She loves old school blues from Bessie Smith to Muddy Waters. My mother doesn't agree. She said that my father was around enough and I was old enough to have memories of him.
I do have memories of my father. I readily admit that I know what he looks like. I told her that I don't know of my father. I know nothing about him. She told me the little that I know about him. Which is nothing. If my life depended on it, I wouldn't be able to say anything good or bad about him. Your kids should be able to say that my dad is lame. He likes bell bottom pants and butterfly collars. Or, "you should see his yearbook picture". Or he graduated from high school in ____...Or, my dad's favorite color is...Or his first girlfriend's name was...Or _____ gave him his first kiss...Or his first bike was a...I've never wished him happy birthday, Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas, or happy Valentine's Day. I think that's a shame.
Here's my point. I recognize the lady who lives next door. But, I don't know her.
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