For Christmas,

I bought my dad a copy of "Gimme Something Better," a book about the Bay Area punk scene. I've given up buying him anything other than exactly what he wants because he'll never 1) use, 2) listen, or 3) read it. It's strange to me that he's featured seven million times in this blog, yet I don't think he cares. I can't relate to that. If something concerns me, I'm all over that shit. In fact, I reread my own damn blog sometimes just because it's about me.

Many people have parents who invade their lives in some really astounding ways. I'm reading a very popular and well publicized memior (which actually doesn't suck, you'll be happy to learn), in which this lady's father reads all of the same books as she does from her college curriculum. In another memior, among other horrendous invasions of his child's life, the father goes out on his son's Amazon reviews and calls his son a liar. That's not my dad. He's always sort of hovered over my life ... sort of observed it while it was unfolding. Even when I was very young - like two or three years old - his main responsibility was to make sure I didn't bump my head and was well fed at lunch. Other than those things, I wandered without walls, and he engaged me in anything I found interesting. Hovering is a great word for my dad. I can imagine some mean schoolyard kid bullying my father for his hovering.

Today, he brought up his own baby book which we recently read together. His mom wrote something about him being sad and morose.

"What a strange thing to write," he said.

I know what he means. I rented a Frontline episode from the library about medicating children for bipolar disorder. Born today, my father could have been one of these children. I also heard a segment on NPR this morning on the same topic. What's never said by the reporters, but is always implied, is this: Is it possible that the signs and symptoms of bipolar are simply the growing pains of youth? I don't know the answer, but it's unsettling. One expert on the NPR says that prior to the diagnosis of bipolar, children were thought to have behavior problems. Bipolar was always considered an adult disease. Once the bipolar diagnosis could be applied to children, it was source of relief and hope to parents who beleived they had run out of options. Now, they could medicate some of the things that seemed uncorrectable in any other fashion. I know, I know. I KNOW!

Rafael and I discussed medicating our children. It's nice to know that we're on the same page about some of life's biggest items. What would I do if my husband turned out to be a closet homophobe child-beater? Kick his ass?

The last time my dad took a serious interest in my life was when I joined a punk band. He went to our concerts, and considered making a scrapbook of all printed references to us ... which were very few. He drove me up to Vancouver, Washington, so I could meet my band and go on tour. If I would have asked, he would have slept on the same floors as us and traveled in the same stinky van.

Why would you say your child is morose? I look at photos of my father as a teenager and I just want to hug him. It's so sad.