Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

Archive for the category “Adoption”

The Changing Lessons Of A Dad


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There is no set guide to raising children.  Things happen that change the original ideas whether it be health related, geographical, or relationships.

But each parent has the same responsibility no matter what the changes that occur.  And that is to provide a safe and loving home, teaching the children to be respectful, well-mannered, caring, you know, all the common sense stuff.  And to be honest, I do not think that I failed my daughters in this.  The compliments that I hear from their teachers and other grown-ups are all positive, echoing what I tried to get my daughters to value.

Once they entered school, another major player would enter the picture in helping to build their lives, their teachers.  Teachers probably spend more time with our children during the school year, than they do with their own family (sorry, being asleep or in front of a television in another room of the house does not count as time spent).  So it now becomes a team effort to prepare our children for their future, reaffirming what has already been taught to them, and showing them the importance of having those values, combined with their education, and how that will hopefully make them successful and happy adults.  Oh, I forgot to specify, this particular time period is the elementary age.

Now that I will soon have a daughter entering the next level of grades, we will take the parental involvement, and everything that has been learned in elementary, and add the much more difficult level of studies of middle school.  Again, all focused on preparation for the future.

But we have to add in  new wrinkle.  And it was something that I had thought about a long time ago, because I had to.  If you did not notice from the picture, my daughters are of Asian descent, as they are adopted.  Part of the adoption process involved education for the parents in what we, as a multi-racial family might face, and need to be prepared for as they got older.

Over the years, I have light-heartedly brushed off references to “boyfriends” and “crushes.”  It was supposed to be a long time before I was ever going to have to concern myself with this.  That time is here now that I cannot brush these feelings off as hoping they would not happen.

My youngest daughter actually sparked the conversation with me some time ago.  As she had informed me, about  someone who had a crush on her for Valentine’s Day.  And so, my questioning began…

Dad:  Is he a nice boy?

Daughter:  Yes

Dad:  Is he well mannered?

Daughter:  Yes

Dad:  Does he respect you like opening doors at school, offering to carry things for you?

Daughter:  Yes

And so it began.  The new role as a Dad, was now teaching my daughter not only how to respect herself, but also, teach her when it comes to relationships, how she is treated has to be a priority.

Many have asked me at one time or another, with them being Asian, was there going to be any issue with dating ethnically?  I answer “of course not” because my daughters have never been taught that race or ethnicity should make a difference in who they are friends with, or in a relationship.  Though they know they are Asian, they only see themselves as people.  Color, religion (or even lack of), appearance, mean nothing to them.  They only see the person, and their heart.

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I will be spending a lot of time with my daughters this Summer.  I will be teaching my oldest, that hopefully I have led the life with her, that she respects, and would want anyone that she dates to treat her the same way.  My youngest, not far behind, will be taking mental notes, and I am certain watching her sister, possibly keeping score to see if I was right.

I want my daughters some day… not necessarily now… to find someone who will treat them with respect and dignity.  Open doors.  Give flowers.  Treat them special, because they are special.  I hope I have shown them that.

Censorship vs. Effect


My writing has been kind of heavy lately as I struggle with my emotions in remembering my father as of late.

So here goes an “every day” dad post.

I talk to, and see, my daughters on Facetime nearly every night.  And we talk about everything from the day at school, friends that they hang around with, Q & A, and many times, homework assistance, and often, just some plain silliness.  Every now and then, we read to each other.

My daughters have always loved reading, and being read to.  So, any time that there is an opportunity to have either read to me, I jump  on that opportunity.  Of course, my daughters are long passed Dr. Suess and the Magic Tree House series.

My oldest daughter is into “anime” these days, in particular something called “hetalia.”  I am not really sure what the whole thing is about, and to be honest, it does not matter to me.  What does matter, is that my daughter takes the time to share something with me, that makes her happy, and even happier knowing that she can share it with me.

Now of course, this level of literature, is more geared towards teenagers, so the language, imagery, and activities will be a lot stronger.  As she was reading to me, she got to a sentence that she felt the need to warn me:
“Daddy, I just need to tell you, there are occasionally some bad words.”

I held back the slight giggle I wanted to release, but this just goes to show, that my daughter did recognize that there are things that are not looked at favorably, especially for a child to say or repeat.  But since I was reading along with her on my laptop, I could see the word in question, “asses” which was being used to describe a troublemaker in the story.

That opened up an opportunity for me to explain about censorship, when it is carried too far, and just when, it is not as much necessary for censorship as much as consideration.

My oldest has always loved singing.  She went through the Kelly Clarkson phase before she was two, then Ashley Tisdale, and by age 4, she was into a catchy song by Avril Lavigne, “Girlfriend.”

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I got a phone call from daycare one afternoon with a very concerned teacher, “Mr. Edelman, do you know what your daughter is singing?”  Innocently I said, “not really.”  I was not concerned.  “Mr. Edelman, she is singing ‘Girlfriend’ from Avril Lavigne.”  Again I held back the laughter, and then asked, “did she sing it edited or unedited?”  I knew what the concern was.  In the song, Lavigne uses what is considered two “curse” words, one definitely considered offensive.  Now my daughter had heard both versions, so my question was legitimate.  As it turned out, she did sing the edited version, so there was nothing more for me to address.

But as I had the conversation advance last night, I brought this situation up.  I mentioned that it was unfortunate that an artist like Lavigne, with connections to Disney, felt the need to include at least one very offensive word in the lyrics to that hit.  And other artists who felt the need to do so as well.  I named some artists that I knew my daughter would recognize, and she acknowledged that there were bad words in some of their songs.  And I told her, that while the songs were good, and the artists were talented, they did not need to use offensive words to get their talent out.  And who knows, they might even get more attention that way.

We also discussed how times had changed even from reading certain literature, or movies that had been edited to censor what at one time was okay to produce for effect.  Yes, both books and movies have lost their “tone” by this censorship.  We talked about how and when is the appropriate time to use the stronger words.  She had been tested a few months ago when she referred to certain presidential candidates as a certain name, not commonly heard by a teenager, but clearly adults.  Whether I agree with her sentiments or not, her teacher did not appreciate the method that was expressed to get her opinion out.  And so, we did have that talk.

That brought back a memory I had when I flipped my first middle finger, having been taught by my elders that “the middle finger doesn’t mean anything,” as if using reverse psychology would keep me from doing it.  It did not.  And as I repeatedly gave that same middle finger to my elementary school principal, proving to him that it not only meant nothing, but actually did not physically hurt anything, only got me in deeper trouble.

I am glad I have this opportunity to keep my daughters on the right track.

My Mom


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My mother asked me a couple of years ago, with all the stories that I had written, how come none were written specifically about her.   I had really not given it much thought, even around other Mother’s Day holidays.  Pretty much, I decide to write last minute, when something really has my attention.  And in general, I have tried to keep my stories in a direction meant to help people.

But in the latest chapter of my life, my mother is playing a very important role.

When I actually stopped to think about all the things that I have to be thankful to my mother for, and I do not often stop to do anything, especially thinking, my mother has actually witnessed, and supported me a lot… A LOT!

Though I do not know all the details, and was clearly too young to know any better, evidently I was “trouble” from the moment I first saw daylight at birth.  Then when I was six, my mother would hear me diagnosed with tumors (they were benign, located in my gums) for the first time.  Divorced when I was three, we lived with my grandmother who would help take care of my sister and I.  My mother worked second shift, and with being in school during the daytime, that meant that we never really got to see each other except on the weekends.  And time would be split every other weekend, with visitation from my dad.

In my teen years, I was not easy to deal with.  I was resentful towards my stepfather for us constantly moving from one town to another.  And of course, there were other teenage issues I was dealing with.

But at 22 years of age, things changed dramatically, when I had informed her that I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.  But through it all, she offered me support.

Eight years ago, when I nearly suffered a fatal heart attack caused by cumulative damage from radiation therapy from my treatments over a decade earlier, my mother was there offering support.

Over subsequent years, I have faced several more severe medical emergencies, and my mother was there offering me support.

And today, as I fight to protect my rights to see my daughters, my mother is there, offering support.

Mom, there are so many things you have taught me.  You introduced me to radio with Bohemian Rhapsody on WAEB 790am.  I heard my first song by my favorite group Chicago, “Wishing You Were Here” while waiting in line for the Thunderhawk roller coaster at Dorney Park.  You taught me how to get my thrills by riding any amusement ride without fear.  You taught me not to be afraid and face the darkest things life can face, by watching scary movies.  You taught me to be a pain in the ass, to fight to be treated with respect.  You taught me to speak up.  You taught me to fight.  You taught me to never give up.

So that is my story about you Mom.

I love you.  Your granddaughters love you.  See you again real soon.

Paul

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