Pablo.

I have a print on my wall of the Marx Brothers. Well, its actually just Chico, Harpo and Groucho. I like the photograph itself because they all have this kind of half smile but Harpo, who is in the middle, is the only one looking at the camera. The other two are looking at him as if he just said something inappropriate… which, of course, never happened. My dad constructed this print for me which I liked because he was the one to expose me to these fantastic old comedies. Plus, in the past, my father’s presents were never very good. Never. Not that I don’t appreciate them when I can convince myself he thought about it for more than 5 minutes, which is rare. And even with the print, I had asked him to make it for me long long before he gave it as a present.

I haven’t spoken to my father in several months. Probably the longest we’ve gone. Please don’t think I don’t love my father or that I think he raised me poorly, because its simply not true. His faults are only apparent now that I’m much older. Recently, I started to feel that I was defending him a lot. Trying to convince everyone else that he was just a little flighty. That generosity and selflessness existed if maybe a little hard to see. Not to strangers, of course. To them he is a goofy artist sweetheart. But to those he’s known the longest, its hard to tell if he cares about you or if he just likes to hear the sound of his own voice. It began to take a lot of poking and prodding to extract him from his own little world. Like a teenager. That’s what finally pushed me over the edge; I was somehow expected to maintain the relationship. I was supposed to be thankful he brought me into this world while giving him undying support as his mind went somewhere else when I wasn’t talking about him. So this last time he confused something I had told him a number of times (causing somewhat of a problem for me) I just couldn’t laugh it off. In fact I couldn’t say anything. So I didn’t, and I haven’t.

So I look at Harpo, with that sheepish expression and I think of my dad. Half smiles. It’s a great picture even if its warping after only 3 months because its was pasted to a board most likely 5 minutes before I received it as a present. Just like everything else. I don’t want it to fall apart. I want it to be better.