Fathers and Sons on the Half-Shell

[So, out of the blue on Wednesday night, the cell phone bleeped out its usual tones ("Girlfriend in a Coma"; what - you've still never heard me sing it in my Elmer Fudd voice?), and it's Dad.]

["I wanted to know what you're up to tomorrow." "Well," I uhhhed, "y'know, the usual job-hunting, finding out details about the volunteer work for Equality California, uhhh..."
"I was thinking it would be fun," he said, "to drive over to Tomales or somewhere and see if we can rustle up some oysters."]

[This idea came out so out of left field, I had no choice but to say yes. After we hung up, I have to admit I had a "what have I gotten myself into" feeling. I know that sounds weird: Dad offers to drive down to the city, pick son up, and chauffeur him up the Marin coast (for which "scenic" is just woefully inadequate) to eat oysters. I mean, c'mon. But, you know, fathers and sons...]

[Look, I love my dad; who doesn't? (Ambiguity resolution: most offspring love their parents, and most people at least like my dad.) But maybe my hesitancy can be explained by the fact that neither of us has ever initiated this kind of thing before. When I called Mom after yesterday's excursion to tell her we'd had a great time, it took her a moment to understand what I was talking about. She'd thought that when Dad said he was driving to the ocean with Bill, he'd meant their septuagenarian friend with the same name. Clear?]

[Anyway, he picked me up in the unnecessarily big, white pickup in which he trundles around Sonoma, we zipped across the Golden Gate under an almost painfully clear, cold, and bright December sky, and curved our way thru the leafy glades of Mill Valley, Muir Beach and northward. We poked our noses into Bolinas, where the locals tear down the highway signs. We watched frisky black birds (crows? ravens?) rollercoaster a deux thru eucalyptus in Marshall. We arrived in Tomales only to discover the oyster shacks along Highway 1 seem to be closed during the week. (Not enough business except on Sat. and Sun. was our guess.)]

[Sandwiches were consumed in Tomales, Dad insisting on ordering a pralines n' cream milkshake (always something new for him...). Northwestward thru pretty, empty farm country (hard to believe all this placid, green countryside is in the same county as the mad 101 corridor, Novato to the Golden Gate), then southward again, recrossing the bridge, and letting me off quickly, back in Tender Heights.]

[And we talked. The thing about Dad is that I've never doubted his paternal...what? Anyway, he always worked very hard for us, he participated in a big way with me in Scouts, and he was usually there at all the youth sports events, music concerts, and various other milestones. He and Mom have been extremely generous to my sister and me all the way, and I know I'm lucky. They've been especially supportive during this year of setbacks and occasional triumphs. And yet...]

[Well, at least to an extent sufficient to be going on with, I'm having a Sally Field moment, so I might as well wallow in it: You like me, you really like me. And there's no reason for us to be scared of each other. Maybe I ought always to have known, but I didn't. It was a great day.]

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