Why It's Father's Day and My Icon Hasn't Changed

This isn't a news flash for people who know me, only for the people who don't.

It's Father's Day, and my icon hasn't changed to that of a father.

Why, you might ask? Well, the truth is, I don't have a father. Well, okay, yeah, I have a "father" in the sense that someone donated sperm in a moment of passion (high drama that was, I'm sure) and the resultant spawn mingled with an egg and produced a zygote which later developed into a baby that was born and became me. However, "the baby daddy" took off for parts unknown as soon as he heard about the impeding bundle of joy. So, I never met him, and don't have a photo of him either. That side of the family is no family at all.

As for grandfathers, both had died before I was born, so there was no chance of positive familial male involvement there. And please, don't mention my uncles, who've been more like drunken violent monkeys than they are role models for growing girls.

Sometimes a person has to grow up without a father, and while that's sad and all, and not the "ideal" way to raise a baby, it happens in households all over America every day of the week. Sometimes you don't have access to a father to gain your strength. Sometimes a person has to look inside themselves for the answers. 

There are times when I wonder what would have happened had he stayed in the picture. Would I have felt more loved if he were there to tousle my hair or take me to the park? Would I have felt
badly if he beat me or abused me? Would he have helped me with my homework? Would he have come home drunk every night and ignored me? Would he have bounced me on my knee? Or would he have bounced something off my head?

Like a lot of children, I wondered about what he looked like and what our life would be together. Of course, I also dreamed about what it would be like to have Henry Winkler for a father, to have a different mother, about having two mothers, and about having no mothers. 

When it comes right down to it, I don't fault my father for running off when he was staring parenthood in the face.  Sure, I may have missed some good times, but on the other hand, I learned to stand up for myself, because no one else was going to do it.