Daughter-Father Dance Podcast
Episode 1: My Dad Could Have Been a Horrible Father
TRANSCRIPT


SHOW WELCOME

Hey everybody. Welcome to our debut show. This is our inaugural episode that will convey to you the foundation from which my dad and I have both come. Now— you'll receive a lot of information about the foundation from which I was formed, because you have the luxury of getting to know my father through this podcast. But I wanted, today, to give you a little bit of background on him— a story that isn't always professed out in the world, but one that helps you better understand who he is.

SHOW

Before we begin, I'd like to make a shout out to our Jewish listeners and all my Jewish friends, as today is one of their holiest days of the year Yom Kippur poor. This Catholic kid honors and acknowledges you on this day of fasting and atonement. As I reflected on this day in my meditation this morning, what came forward was a desire that we all experience and extend forgiveness in our lives, forgiveness for others and for ourselves. I mean, if God can forgive every single Israelite, can't we forgive just one person? Anyway, a blessing Yom Kippur to all What a perfect day to begin this podcast. Now, let's meet my dad.

Gene Arthur 1:49
[SINGING] "Oh, me name is McNamara. I'm the leader of the band..."

Jenée Arthur 1:54
My dad doesn't naturally sing nor speak in an Irish brogue, but he does often find a reason to take on the accent of his motherland. Before he and my mom traveled to Ireland to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary, and renew their wedding vows in county Kerry, where mom's family originated. Dad studied Gaelic by way of cassette tapes that he would play and respond to in an Irish brogue. I think my mother has since hidden those tapes. For obvious reasons.

It's important to note the dad is a proud Irishman. Just about as proud as he is to be a Roman Catholic. Most, if not all, of dad's idiosyncrasies, stem from these two identities. This will become apparent to you, the longer you accompany us on this journey.

Now the reason this episode title is relevant isn't due to my dad having any horrible character flaws or demerits in his fathering skills. It's about the environment in which he grew up, and the fact that he had no father present in his life from what she could learn the best ways to be one, though, my grandmother did the very best she could the only option she felt she had for my dad's care as a little infant was to place him in an orphanage, when my grandfather decided to leave their marriage and start a life with another woman. My grandmother was so financially strapped that she only had the means and the limited time to raise one child, my aunt, so she made the difficult choice of giving up her infant son to the care of the Catholic nuns.

The reason this is worthy of mention isn't for sympathy for my dad, he'd actually hate that. It's to set the foundation for the man you will come to know better soon. He's a paradox of simple and complex. this dichotomy has served him and our family well, and you'll see why in later episodes. I don't have to list all the characteristics of my dad here. That's for you to experience along the path of this journey. But I do want to highlight his earliest life, the foundation from which he was formed because it matters to this conversation about division.

When this fateful decision was made, my dad was placed as an infant into St. Anthony's orphanage and raised by the nuns. At age three, Dad was transferred to St. Pius the 10th Home for Boys. He stayed there until he was about 10 and a half years old, when he was able to go home and live with my grandmother and my aunt. Anyone who knows Kansas City, Missouri knows St. Aloysius grade school, and De La Salle High School, both of which my father attended once he was home from his early years in the orphanage.

It's an interesting story, and one that I hope to expound on at another time. The reason it's important is because of the way my dad frames the way he was raised. The decisions by grandmother made. The decisions my grandfather made. It's a beautiful reflection of how what you see, the way you perceive things, is actually dictating your world.

ON LOCATION AT FORMER KC BOY’S HOME

Gene Arthur 5:02
We're here just to reminisce on the location.

Jenée Arthur 5:07
And because it's the only thing literally the only thing left like the two flanking walls of what would that be east and west are the only two things left,

Gene Arthur 5:16
Correct east. So we're looking at the west wall now. And we haven't been to the east side yet. But that that was the wall that went around the outer perimeter of the orphanage.

Jenée Arthur 5:31
So Dad, did, were you ever outside of that wall? Or did you feel like was it sort of like an encampment where you couldn't get out of the wall? Or?

Gene Arthur 5:38
I was only outside the wall when my mother picked me up on Saturday morning to take me home with her and then brought back Sunday evening.

Jenée Arthur 5:49
Did you ever jump it and like get away or

Gene Arthur 5:51
Well, what I remember this wall, on the north end of it is where the ball air where we could play ball wasn't a ball diamond or ball field, it was just grounds where we could set up a some basis and then play baseball. And the neighbor hood boys used to come and climb over the wall and play with us guys that were in the orphanage.

Jenée Arthur 6:18
As you're hearing, this past winter Dad and I spent some time on the grounds that used to be the boy's home.

[IN BACKGROUND] So you learned to ride a bike here.

Gene Arthur 6:27
Yeah, Mickey Johnson helped me learn how to ride a bike. And they had bands, I had a swimming pool. That's where I learned how to swim. And that's where Nikki taught me how to pull the tar out between the seams and the concrete around the swimming pool. And just put it in your mouth and chew it like gum.

Jenée Arthur 6:52
Seriously. Did you swallow it?

Gene Arthur 6:56
No, just chewed it like gum.

Jenée Arthur 6:59
I've never heard that.

Gene Arthur 7:01
Also, I recall close to this wall. Picking pickles leaves or something. They actually were sour when you chewed on it.

Jenée Arthur 7:13
Oh, we did that as kids! We had them in our backyard.

Gene Arthur 7:16
Yeah, I had that as a child in the home.

Jenée Arthur 7:18
So were they literally snacks that you guys ate? Like, did you look forward to finding them?

Gene Arthur 7:22
I don't know. Just something we did.

Jenée Arthur 7:27
[Laughter]

This trip down memory lane with my dad was admittedly fun and informative, but it kind of broke my heart at the same time. All I could imagine is this little boy who had been abandoned and displaced. Not to mention he was surrounded by other young boys who had to have had feelings about that abandonment.

But the way I'm seeing this is very, very different than the way my dad saw his upbringing, his childhood, his years in an orphanage.

Recorded back at the former KC Boy’s Home

Gene Arthur 7:58
I mean, it was a big place

Jenée Arthur 8:00
It sure is! So how many boys were in the home with you?

Gene Arthur 8:04
Oh, I don't know. If I would guess. How many were others were in a dormitory. Probably 12 to 18 of us in the dormitory

Jenée Arthur 8:14
and the dormitory was like a hall?

Gene Arthur 8:17
No, it's where you slept.

Jenée Arthur 8:18
I know. But how big? Was it like as big as our house or?

Gene Arthur 8:23
Enough to put enough beds in it for the number of the boys that were there?

Jenée Arthur 8:28
Yeah, I don't know if that means there are 20 boys to a dormitory or 200. But let's just suffice it to say that this is a little bit of foreshadowing in the ways in which my dad and my conversations can go a little sideways, depending on how I'm feeling or he's feeling that day. In other words, depending on if we let it.

Now, we're going to switch gears. It's only fair that you get a glimpse not only into my dad's foundational upbringing, but into mine as well.

This will also allow you an opportunity to see my bossy firstborn side. Yeah, it's there. It's covert in most cases, but it's definitely there. And it's another reason that conversations with my dad can get a little bit sticky, because I'm stubborn. And I see it my way. And I don't always want to see it his as I contemplated what to include here. Besides the fact that I grew up in one of the most loving homes where we were reminded that we were loved. And that we could do or become anything we put our mind and effort to, or that relying on God—counting on God really— wasn't something we had to struggle to wrap our brains around. It was a given, as evidential in my parents' lives, the lives of their friends and our friends around us. An irrefutable truth really. More on that later.

For now. I've landed on this little nugget as an example of the ways I believe my child had set the stage for me to form my Life perspectives.

For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be the first female priest. I would pay nightly visits to the Blessed Sacrament with my dad, which basically meant that after dinner we would drive to church. My mom being the Director of Religious Education and all meant we had the keys.

Dad would kneel and pray the rosary before the tabernacle, for some intention or for someone who needed his prayers. I would play on the altar acting out the different stages of mass as the priest. These alter theatrics were fortified at home by playing mass with my little sister ad-nauseum.

Every month, mom would bring home a missile led a missile at being a booklet that outlined each week's readings, the Gospels and every response one would say during the mass. It's like a cliff notes for people who somehow weren't able to memorize the exact same prayers, we would say every week for our entire lives. I personally loved when the new one of these would enter the house. It meant I had four Sunday masses and a plethora of weekly masses to recite with my little sister, who would begrudgingly play the part of multiple parishioners during our pretend math.

We went through the entire mass from singing the opening hymn to her reading the readings, me giving a homily, all the way to me proceeding down our make believe aisle at the closing song. She hated it, and I was in heaven. Before I would beckoned Julie to play mass with me, I would make all the arrangements. Most importantly, I would take a slice of bread and a pint glass to the kitchen counter, where I would press the pint glass into the middle of the bread slice, rotating it back and forth, so that a perfectly formed circular host would suddenly appear, which I would gently set aside into a linen napkin that I would later use as an altar cloth. Then I would pick apart the remaining bread and bread press that I soon would be using as individual hosts for our communion procession, which was basically Julie playing the part of multiple mass attendees receiving the Holy Communion

[BACKGROUND]
Jenée (as the priest): "Body of Christ"
Jenée’s sister, Julie: "Amen."

After the host was placed on her tongue, Julie would have to walk all the way to the end of the hallway and proceed back to me while I pretended to offer communion to the other make-believe people in line for the Eucharist. My sister hated this entire mass replication. But for some reason, she would do it for me after I pleaded the fact that that I had to practice for that "someday" that I would become the first female priest.

So, for all of you who know me and grew up with me as a kid, you know that you couldn't call my house without my dad answering and saying, "God bless you, Arthur Residence." Nor could you leave a message on a recorder without the outgoing message being the exact same thing.

Now, this may sound like a trivial thing. But what's important to note is the intention behind why my father did it. This is an example, albeit a small one, of the way in which my dad lived every decision he made. It was thoughtful, had meaning, and was usually for the good of someone else.

Gene Arthur 13:33
God bless you, Arthur residence? That started out because of a Franciscan priest on a weekend retreat, said the best thing you could wish anybody is that God bless them. So with that in mind, I thought why don't I do that to anybody who wants to talk to me. And the best way I could do that was to say, “God bless you are the residence.”

Jenée Arthur 14:02
So that was literally our voice recording my entire childhood on our landline was “God bless you, Arthur residence”. Or you would do that when people would physically call like, that's how you answered the phone remotely that most of us say hi or hello, yours was “God bless you...” And I have to tell you that my boyfriend's back that in the day, it would terrify them that that's how you answered. But it was also very endearing to most other people.

Gene Arthur 14:29
Well, when you said terrifying it brought up something else to think about a priest friend of mine said that before he answered the telephone, he would make the sign of the cross. And that would prepare him for whatever he may receive on the other side of the receiver. And I kept that in mind thinking how can I prepare myself for whatever may be coming at the end of that ring, and also be a source of a blessing for the person on the other end.

Jenée Arthur 15:06
That's beautiful Dad.

Jenée Arthur 15:07
[VOICEOVER] This is that piece I was trying to convey earlier. when I mentioned 'simple but complex'. I think I'd like to change it to far-reaching,

My dad [emotional].

Well, he's unlike anyone I've ever met. His effect on most people is profound. I've watched this man sit at someone's bedside as they die, and bring them for the first time, comfort, just from his words, just from his presence. And it's not always about God, although pretty much of his life is. He just has an integrity and a gentle confidence. And he has faith. Also, unlike anyone I've ever met.

Can he piss me off? Yes! No one pushes my buttons like my dad. But even when I don't agree with him, even when he fights and I have a seething, just-as-equally-strong fight in me.. somehow what he shares. It makes a difference. And sometimes I learn things about myself, about the world and about things that, until I speak with him, I don't understand.

And I'm better for it.

Part of the reason I wanted to have this conversation and share it with you is because I think the world could be better fr=rom a little time with my dad.

Gene Arthur 16:41
My mother never told me a bad thing about my father.

So far as having things about, well, "God, I got short-changed. I didn't have a dad." I never had that . I never... I never thought about that.

Jenée Arthur 17:00
My dad could have been a bitter asshole, or worse, an angry man resentful from being robbed of a father and tossed aside, but he saw it differently. He saw his life in the orphanage as a blessing and something special. He also saw the decision my grandmother made to put him there from her perspective. Instead of being angry, he understood because he wasn't just looking at his life from some fixed, unbending, I'm right, you're wrong. How dare you perspective.

I can't claim to know whether my dad's compassion or forgiving nature is something innate in him or something he's learned over time. What I can tell you is that there's no one from whom I learned how to be a better human than him. Well, I take that back. There's definitely my mom. But that's for another day.

Now, I can pretty much guarantee that at some point, my dad or I will ruffle your feathers so muchso that you will want to stop listening to this podcast. I beg you to hang in there with us. I think you'll be glad you did.

Thank you so much for being here.

Join us next week when we dive into the conversations from and for which this podcast was created. And there's no better place to start than discussing that wonderful elephant in the room.

See you next week!

Division is Optional