Our Fathers, Ourselves by Peggy Drexler

Author:Peggy Drexler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Potter/Ten Speed/Harmony/Rodale
Published: 2011-05-19T04:00:00+00:00

[ CHAPTER 5 ]

A Father Who Answered His Daughter’s Endless Questions

I have a mouth. I’ve always had a mouth. My favorite question was “But why?” Whereas my mother would take it as me talking back or trying to be flippant, my father would answer my “but why” questions.

-JACQUELINE, 42, FAMILY THERAPIST

IT makes complete sense, I suppose, that a girl who grew up questioning everything should end up listening for a living. If you were the youngest of four daughters, as Jacqueline was, you got to see a lot of what a girl’s life was like before you got to actually live your own. Unless, as was the case with Jacqueline, you also got to spend Monday afternoons with your dad when you were in kindergarten. Then you found out something about what a man’s life was like, too.

“When I was dating my husband, he told me I could hammer better than a lot of men,” Jacqueline said. “My sister Toni will pick up a hammer to hang a picture, but putting a bookshelf together, no, she’s not going to do that. And Sharon or Gwen? No. They’d be shopping instead.” A trill of laughter rippled across the telephone line.

Jacqueline grew up in Detroit, where she still lives with her husband of eleven years, a diagnostic medical sonographer and photographer (“He’d just say photographer,” Jacqueline said), and their sons, ages nine and six. I was charmed by her selfeffacing sense of humor, which surfaced in the first thirty seconds of the interview when I asked some routine questions.

“So, Jacqueline,” I said, “what are your race and ethnic background?”

“My race is African American. Ethnicity is a mix. I’m a mutt: I’m African American, Native American. And please call me Jackie—everyone else does.”

“Okay, Jackie. What is your political affiliation?”

“I’m a big Democrat.”

“Are you religious?”

“I’m Christian.”

“Are you a practicing Christian?” (What I was after here was whether or not she attended church regularly.)

“I try to be.” Laughter on the line. Point taken.

I interviewed Jackie over the telephone in two segments: The first, at her office, had to end when a couple arrived for a therapy session; the second took place the next day when she was at home and the schools were closed because of a snowstorm. When speaking from her office, she was spontaneous, lively, and open; the next day, at home, she seemed more measured and guarded, which may have been because her sons were within earshot of our conversation. Both times she was poised, articulate, and self-confident. She laughed easily and often; sometimes, it seemed, to defuse discomfort engendered by a question I had asked. For the most part, however, her responses felt spontaneous and candid.

Jackie’s father was well into his eighties and retired when we spoke, but he had owned a restaurant when Jackie was growing up, a small, busy neighborhood place that catered to the lunchtime crowd during the week and families on the weekends. I asked her if her father had been around when she was growing up.

“He worked a lot,” Jackie said.

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