April 29, 2010
Once I got it through my head that I did not have to start revising at the beginning — I know, every story has a beginning, middle and end but not necessarily in that order — I clicked on chapter five which deals with my first visit back to Dumbarton, 1955. The hard part dealt with my father — his reaction to me and mine to him. My shock at the handsome young soldier of my memory now a seedy old man. He was bitter — full of self pity and I in turn was full of righteous indignation at the realization that he expected something from me. This man who had not contacted me in over fourteen years. It is hard to write this stuff knowing what I now know about the disease of alcoholism. Revisiting the scene is not as painful as the initial episode — now it is more a feeling of regret that I could not resolve anything before he died, alone and impoverished.