Yes, that’s right, when my Dad found out that I had joined the Marines, he was delighted. And it was an excuse for him to have another dog and pony show. He had yet another small hook to hang his pride on. He threw a party for me; and all relatives on my Dad’s side of the family were invited. The month before my seventeenth birthday the gala event went through with flying colors.           

      Simply everyone was proud of me, and I was excited to fight for my country, to become a Marine, to become a man.

      Although, my Father had for years neglected us and allowed us to suffer, and for years up till this point he had been woefully disappointed in me as a son. I did not warrant being a showpiece to crow about to his friends. Until puberty, I was a lackluster athlete.

      However, I had hoped that one of the benefits of joining the Marines was that I would earn both my Dad and Stepfather’s love and regard.

      At one point during the party, I was talking to one of my attractive female cousins and my Dad and my Uncle Bruno had come up behind me; my Dad took my Uncle Bruno’s hands and guided them over my muscular Lats – from top the bottom – as if guiding the hands of a blind appraiser of finely bred farm animals or thoroughbred horses.

      At that moment, my Sister took the opportunity during this occasion to ask my Father if he would help her financially through college. Unlike my Brother and I, she was excelling in school and she had great ambitions.

      My Father told her in no uncertain terms that he had no intention of helping her financially. He said that no one had helped him in life. He once again told her that she and her college education was now the responsibility of my Mother and Stepfather.

      To his way of thinking, we were chattel signed over to new owners for them to worry.

      Lynn was crestfallen by my Dad’s refusal to give emotional or financial support.

      I could tell that the last vestiges of the love that my Sister had for my Father and so desperately hoped that my Dad had for her was obliterated as effectively as the volcanic eruption of Mount Vesuvius that had destroyed Pompeii.

      As I watched my Father callously snuffed out the remaining embers of my Sister’s hope of having a loving relationship with him, I felt a damper put on my joy of going out into the world.

      I could not help dwelling on the fact that my Father seemed to have so little regard for us outside of blue-ribbon events at which we could be displayed.

Why doesn’t Dad love us?