DADDY DAUGHTER DAZE

      I don’t have kids. Samm has a daughter Teddy. So now I’m a de-facto dad. I’ve known her for about ten years. She’s 23 or 24. Teddy’s birthday is today. I love her dearly. Yesterday  morning I came downstairs to her wrapped in a blanket, curled up on the couch. Bachelor in Paradise was on the TV. “Can’t I watch CNN?” I pleaded. “What,” she responded “You’d rather watch that asshole Trump in the morning?” I had to admit I did. But, after I had a little coffee in my system, I settled in and relented to her TV choice. I learned all about Kristen and Devon and Marsha and Paul and Bimmy…..Teddy had so many friends. These physically perfect specimens of twenty-somethings had backstories, moms and dads, exes and…..within ten minutes I knew way too much. Fifteen minutes later and I was sobbing uncontrollably; as hearts were broken to pieces on the beach. I was definitely not high enough to deal with Paradise.

    When Samm goes out of the country I take care of the critters, also assuming the duties as Teddy’s Uber driver, TV adversary, pot smoking buddy and roommate. I believe in parenting as an equal. Of course she sees me as inferior. It’s hard to believe she is not my biological daughter. We are both stubborn, slovenly, stoners— TV addicts who like to argue, laugh at stupid stuff, drive each other crazy—did I mention we smoke pot together? Teddy’s been living with her mother in the Catskills for the summer, working multiple jobs, and plotting her next move as a 23 or 24 year old. She’s weighing staying in the country against getting a better job and moving back into NYC. Both have their pros and cons. It’s still up in the air. I don’t know if writing about her will tickle her or piss her off. I’ll take the chance.

    What do you get a grown daughter for her birthday? She’s got plenty of clothes and makeup and skin products and paraphernalia. Money? Hell, she’s been working like a dog all summer. She’s more flush than I am. Art? Ha. Can’t get away with that anymore. I decided on a tattoo. She’s got a few nice ones and has been talking about getting another. Is that too hillbilly? It’s not like it’s a meth pipe or belly button ring. I can draw her one or just pony up the cash and supply a ride to the tattoo parlor.

    Parenting late in life with someone so similar to myself is a challenge. I have to remind myself constantly how difficult I was at her age. I may have been married, with a steady job, a rental house in Bearsville and plans to move to the west coast but, I had barely escaped the Vietnam War, dropped out of school, was completely unreliable, selfish, impatient, clueless about women, constantly broke and wanted to be an artist. In spite of all this, my parents were always supportive, loving, gave good advice and never abandoned me on any level. I just hope I can live up to their example. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TEDDY! I love you. Your next tattoo is on me.