And You Think That Your Family Is Weird

We all have weird, embarrassing, hideous stories in our families. Some of them get buried deep within the pages of history.

And even though society thrives on gossip, not every story from every family makes it to national television shows such as “The Jerry Springer Show“ (which wasn’t around when my family was growing up).

But my story is one of those that need to be told so that others can learn from our family’s mistake(s).

My dad wanted to have a son with his first wife.  But, for some reason, they were not able to conceive a child together.

So after many years of trying, they came up with “Plan B”.

Now that’s not totally unusual except how he was planning to get a child.

You see, although he was my dad, my mother was not his wife. In fact she wasn’t really a girlfriend; more of a ‘convenient way to fix the situation’.

The two of them had this “grand plan“ that my dad would have a surrogate mother for a child.

In fact, if the truth be told, it was actually his first wife who came up with the idea that my dad should have a child by having sexual relations with this other woman.

Although my mind doesn’t want to think about it, my dad and my mom must have had sex, because she became pregnant with me.

And they all lived together as one big happy family and it worked out pretty good; that is until my mom became pregnant.

For some reason my dad‘s first wife suddenly became very jealous of the girlfriend and complained about my mom to my dad.

Remember, this was the same woman who his first wife had suggested that he have sex with so that they could have a child together!

And to make things even worse, after I was born, my dad gave his first wife permission to treat my mom with disrespect.

After his wife treated my mom with disrespect, my mom took off while still pregnant with me to raise the child on her own.

But my mom realized that she needed my dad to help raise the child, so she went back to live with them.

Now, I should also tell you that my dad was a deeply religious man. At some point in his life he had an encounter with God that changed his outlook on his life.

So, my dad and his wife decided to try again.

I forget the year, but I know that I was 13 years old when I heard that my dad wanted to have another child. Specifically, he wanted to have another son.

He really believed that God wanted him to have a child with his first wife.

So, my dad set about again trying to conceive a child with his first wife.

Did you catch that? My dad is communicating to me that I am not really his son!!!

There are not enough words in the world to tell you how I felt knowing that my dad really did not consider me to be his son. Or at least not the son that he believed God wanted him to have.

Although my mind doesn’t want to think about it, my dad and his first wife must have had sex, because one year later when I was 14, my dad and his first wife had a child; a son.

And then things continued to get weird in our household.

Now that my dad’s first wife had a son of her own, she wanted my mom and me to leave their house.

My dad objected at first, but after praying about it, he agreed with his wife that it was time for my mom and me to leave.

So, he packed up some provisions and sent my mom and me away.

The end of the story is that we were taken care of and my family became very successful in the oil business.

My step brother grew up with my dad and his first wife and also became very successful.

Oh, I suppose I should’ve told you my name. I am Ishmael and this is my story.

And there are other details of the story that I’ve left out, mostly to save my family any further embarrassment; like the fact that my dad was 86 years old when I was born and 100 when my step brother was born.

The good news is that a son was born and the world as we know it was changed forever.

• Ishmael was born when Abraham was 86

• It was prophesied to the patriarch Abraham that he would have a son and that his name should be Isaac.

• When Abraham became one hundred years old, this son was born to him by his first wife Sarah.

• Though this was Abraham’s second son it was Sarah’s first and only child.

• When Isaac was born, Abraham was 100, Sarah 99, and Ishmael was 14.

I’m An Excellent Driver

I remember when I first learned to drive. The year was around 1976 and in order to be able to get your driver’s license, you had to take lessons that included both behind the wheel and in a classroom.

The best lesson that I learned in the classroom was that I “needed to leave myself an out”.

What the instructor meant by that was to always be asking; “If the car in front of me does thus and so, where would I go?” In other words, always be looking for a safe way to avoid an accident.

Even today when I drive I can still hear my instructor’s voce saying; If you remember nothing else; remember to leave yourself an out”.

The rest of the class was a blur except for being told we had the option to not watch the 1959 Highway safety Film; “Signal 30” if we didn’t want to.

 “Signal 30” is the legendary "shock" driving safety film featuring numerous scenes of mutilated cars and injured/dead people and a voiceover lacking in compassion. Produced in cooperation with the Ohio State Highway Patrol and shown to millions of young drivers for over 40 years. It contained many disturbing scenes of violent deaths and accident scenes; as well as cries of crash victims on soundtrack. It brought the point home to most of the students; as well as probably scaring some of them out of driving until they were much older!

The “behind-the-wheel” lessons were a trip in themselves. I went through a local agency that provides an instructor who comes to your house and takes you out four times on both city roads and on the freeway. The cars had brakes on both the driver’s and passenger’s side of the car.

When I got in the instructor’s car, he told me to “start the car, back it up, and drive down the block.” When I told him that I didn’t know how to start the car, let alone drive it; he laughed at me, saying that all kids my age know how to do that.

I told him that I didn’t and that was why we were paying him to teach me how to drive. He shook his head, stating that I must not be telling truth, and proceeded to show me how to start the car.

I gently put the car in reverse as I stomped down on the gas pedal, sending the car (almost) into the pond across the road from our house. The instructor in turn stomped on the brake pedal, sending me (almost) through the rear window of the car. My mom laughed at me as she stood watching from the living room amusing herself with my predicament. Just what you want to see…

Realizing that I had been telling the truth, the instructor took time to instruct me on how to gently step on the gas. I put the car in drive and went down the block; swerving from side to side until I learned how to drive straight.

When we got to the first corner, I took it as widely as humanly possible without going over the curb. Once again, my instructor gave instructions to this pre-novice driver on how to take a corner all the while digging his fingernails deeper into the dashboard in front of him.

After three or four corners (all taken quite widely I must say), he asked me to pull over; which I did. When we came to a stop, he opened the glove box which contained a small drug store of antacids; liquid and tablets. He proceeded to both drink and eat some as he told me to not take this personally, because the student before me had given him the ulcer. He said that I was the better driver.

We drove around a bit and then went home. I was grateful that it was only the two of us in the car because sometimes there may be several students in the car at the same time; each taking their turn individually. I guess this was the old method of safe driving through peer pressure.

I am happy to report that the next three times behind the wheel went better; except he kept taking the antacids. He left me with some instructions; “study hard for the written test and try to strike up a conversation for the behind the wheel test” …he said that this would help me and the other person to be relaxed.

When I took the behind the wheel test, I tried to be friendly by asking the person who was giving me the test about how he was doing, his family, etc. He barked at me that his wife had just divorced him, his kids didn’t like him, and he didn’t want me to say anything; mumbling something derogatory about the instructor who gave me such stupid advice.

Despite everyone’s attempt to sabotage my efforts and my own feelings of inadequacy, I passed both the written and behind the wheel the first attempt with flying colors. I was issued a license to drive a motor vehicle.

My real test came a few days later when my dad, myself, and two of my brothers went to the BWCA. After packing up the family’s Ford LTD Station wagon, my dad tossed me the keys and said that I could drive.

Scared, I told him that I hadn’t ever driven a station wagon (let along one filled with people, camping gear, and two canoes on top); I had only driven a compact car with one other person inside!

My mind flashed to my past experiences with others watching me drive and I looked for a way out. What if I get in an accident or lose my way or have one of the canoes fall off the top?

He looked at me and said; “It’s a long trip and you will have plenty of time to learn how to drive the bigger car. You will do just fine. I’m going to take a nap.” And with that he proceeded to get into the rear of the car along with my next younger brother Joe (who had also gotten his license the same time as I did) and settled in for the long trip.

I climbed into the driver’s seat where my older brother Rick would join me up front to be my navigator. The car looked about the size of an eighteen-wheeler! I slowly backed the car out of the drive way (noticing that my dad had already closed his eyes) and headed out towards the BWCA.

It took me awhile, but (very quickly) I was OK with driving the car. What my dad hadn’t told me was that the smaller cars that I had driven were older and didn’t handle as well. This LTD was newer and had features such as power steering and power brakes and a better stereo system.

That trip is when I really learned how to drive; not the classroom, my practice times, or my behind the wheel instruction. It was this trip when I had time to go through the process of fearing I would crash to trust that I really could drive.

My confidence came from a dad who was sitting behind me in the car if I needed him. He may have gone to sleep, but he was still within reach; and he had left me my older brother to be my navigator.

King Solomon wrote to his son;

“Pleasant words are like a honeycomb,Sweetness to the soul and health to the bones.” (Proverbs 16:24)

“The words of a man’s mouth are deep waters; The wellspring of wisdom is a flowing brook.” (Proverbs 18:4)

My dad knew that (sometimes) the best way to learn is to toss someone the keys and tell them; “It’s a long trip and you will have plenty of time to learn how to drive the bigger car. You will do just fine. I’m going to take a nap.”

Even greater than the encouragement I received from my dad is the encouragement that I receive from my Heavenly Father that I can make it. At times it may seem that He is absent (or asleep), but He is nearer than I will ever know this side of Heaven.