Tumble Me a World

So to say that my father was a philanderer would be an understatement. I am my father's only child in marriage, yet he has 15 children. That's right, 15 children in a world that's bursting with nearly 7 billion people. Not the "be fruitful and multiply" days where children worked the farm to help ma and pa~but these seem bursting days where it cost a million dollars to raise a child to 18. To not be misleading, I must tell you that he had 4 of these children before he met and subsequently married my mother. Now, she knew of only 1 child, but that's for later in the story. So I hope you now see why philanderer is much to soft a term; it's too gentle, too soft, too proper and neat. For the word still gives the impression of purpose. One is operating with purpose, much like a philanthropic wealthy man sits back and chooses a good charity which to donate an ample sum of money. He makes this decision with calculating assessment and chooses the organization he deems fit for the current stirrings in his heart and global need. Do you see the organization and precision enlisted by this guy? Well this is the same precision enlisted by one who philanders. My father had no such precision. He just went where the wind blew. The wind seemed to blow him a lot. It always blew him into the bed of a woman I did not know, and if I did I wouldn't want to be anything like. I don't say this out of bitterness, because I'm really not...Anymore. I have met some of these women throughout the years and I maintain that I wouldn't want to be like any of them. So like I was saying philanderer is too many clicks to the right of to fully hurl to your heart what my father was. I have thought a lot about this through the years (I'm now 31); my father is a thief. He single handedly stole parts of who I was to be. I have since replaced those parts with good stuff. Really good stuff. Stuff that I wouldn't have know existed, but for the theft and the residual vacant spots where these things (stuff) once were. So don't cry me a river and don't hate him as I once did. For though I have no idea of who I would be if enlisted as my father were Bill Cosby instead of Al Capone, I like who I am becoming. The excavation process has proved itself priceless.