Welcome to the land of whoo, my friend.

Have you heard this commercial? If not, then just skip to the next paragraph. But for those of you who know what I'm talking about, the stodgy old guy who finally gives in to his urge to yell "whoo!" after seeing his business's bottom line improving totally reminds me of my dad.

My father is in his early-mid fifties, and is kind of going through a very real mid-life crises. Dad is currently quite frustrated with his career and financial well-being - in our conversations, I find him questioning his decision to take his chosen career path which has to this point centered around the religious and academic fields. When we talk about my legal education and now blooming legal career, I can hear his voice is filled with pride, but tinged with regret (I think he would have made an incredible lawyer, btw). His love for learning has proved him to be a true life-long scholar, and while my dad may not have a mansion on a hill to show for his life's work, he has certainly acquired a hoard of knowledge and has ingrained in all of his four children a thirst (though a somewhat lackluster thirst compared to his) for knowledge and education.

I think my dad's biggest frustration is that he knows he is super-talented and intelligent, but just hasn't found the right niche yet. Right now, he manages a research center at a Christian university in Tulsa, and moonlights at the local community college teaching humanities, ethics, and religion. He also has his own free-lance publishing company. In the past, he started a church (it is still alive and well, today), has had a couple of other little business ventures (advertising company and a real estate flop), but I think his issue is that none of them have become "big."

Aside from his career, Dad hasn't exactly been the favorite parent according to me and my brothers and sister. He is fairly no-nonsense, and has a hard time being compassionate. While we have learned that Dad's affection is shown by his "providing for the family," if anything, his personality has caused all four of us to crave attention and affection even more. My father and I have a very up and down relationship. All during my childhood and teen years, the relationship was in a decidedly "down" spiral. He couldn't stand my irreverence or lack of respect for him, and I couldn't stand his tyrannic rule in our household. Mostly, I remember feeling like a big disappointment to him, just another inconvenience for him.

I have the most vivid memory of waiting for my dad to come pick up after cheering at a middle school basketball game (no comment on the fact that he wasn't there during the game to watch me). All of the cheerleaders were waiting outside for our rides, and one by one, each girl got into her parents' car and took off. It kept getting later, and later, until I was the only one left. It was already dark, and I remember sitting on the gritty, concrete curb with my coach, just mortified that this sweet lady had to wait with me because my dad was too forgetful to come pick me up. When he finally arrived an hour later than he was supposed to, I was furious and embarrassed. He pulled up, car still running. He didn't even get out to apologize to my cheerleading coach. When I got in the car, I mentioned how late he was, and all he could say was "Well, at least you are fortunate to have a ride." As if I should consider myself lucky that I had been blessed with a legal guardian who was sweet enough to pick up his child (who was not old enough to drive) from an activity! How kind of him! How thoughtful! It still burns me up today. A petty story, I know, but a perfect snapshot of our dynamic.

We were pretty much oil and water. All of my friends had daddies who were wrapped around their little fingers. . . the kind of daddies who seemed truly overjoyed to have little darling daughters. I kept thinking, if only I was better, if only I was smarter, then Dad would view me the same way. Then I would realize that, no, nothing I would do would change him, and my resentment and disgust grew. As I got older, my rebellious nature came into check, I got a full-ride to a good college, and during college, completely took care of myself financially by working odd jobs and babysitting. I'm not sure if my financial Independence caused dad to finally start treating my like an individual with a brain who wasn't WRONG and ANNOYING all the time, but around that time, something changed between us.

It was a slow, painful process, and at times it seemed that for every step of healing we made, we scratched open two other old wounds. Yesterday, he and I had an hour long conversation about life, the economy, the housing market, religion, the law. Our typical convo topics, but what wasn't part of our conversation was that tenseness and discomfort that had previously been a central theme of our relationship. We were still acting as father and daughter, but now talking as two adults would. Dad now gives advice, rather than orders, and I am more prone to listen since I am not reprimanded if I don't.

As I've gotten older, I have started to realize that a) Dad didn't have exactly the greatest childhood, either, and b) we are way more alike than I ever realized. One night, while I was venting to Mom, she shared with me a story about my Dad that really put things into perspective.

Apparently, my dad's relationship with his father was quite similar to his and mine. When my dad was in high school, he was VERY involved with the band. His band was quite good - even playing for presidents and in the Rose Parade (he lived in Vista, California. At the end of his junior year, Dad was voted to be the president of the band for the upcoming year. This was a huge deal for Dad, and he rushed home after the election to share his good news. When he finally got home to tell his parents, his dad's only response was "They couldn't find anyone better for the job?"

True, my dad isn't perfect. And he (just like all of us) should not be able to rely on a unhappy childhood as an excuse for poor adult behavior. But I see now that while he is flawed, he is also good, trying to do the best he can with his own tons of personal baggage. I also realize that while his curmudgeonly, inconsiderate behavior is unpleasant and rude, I have to remember that he has never acted violently or been unfaithful in his marriage to my mother. He is addicted only to books - gambling, porn or drugs are not of concern to him. While I wish things in the past were different, we have learned to forgive each other for our past wrongs against one another. I wish for him a life of joy and happiness so great that even he, a man of much stoicism and reserve, cannot contain the urge to utter happy exclamations. I hope so much that one day, he also finds the land of "Whoo!"