My Father

Secrets, untold truths, and untaught stories are all descriptions of my father’s story. His name is Timothy Neas. If you ask most of my family about him the response that you will get is, “He’s an a**hole for what he did to Scott’s mother, sisters, and Scott.” Even his brother feels this way. If you go to my house you will not find a single photograph of him up anywhere. For the most part, the reason we do not have any photographs up and do not talk much of him is because we just want to forget about him. I know for a fact that I will never be able to forget him. To me, his impact on my life was, is, and will be huge. I plan on taking my father’s negative influence and turning it into a positive one, as did Milan and her cousins in “The Third Generation,” by Gwendolyne Milan. “The Third Generation” is about how Milan and her cousins learned from the ways of their mothers, to be sure not to make the same mistakes in their own lives. Though my situation in this aspect is similar to the story, my experience and the lesson of my story are different from Milan’s. By doing drugs and drinking alcohol you may end up doing something that causes a lot of pain to someone else and that if you are going to be a parent, do the best you can raising your children and do not abandon them.

Timothy Neas and Leslie Block got married a few months before I was born. In case you were wondering, I was born February 2, 1981. Everything was great for the first couple years of my life. How many other kids got to get presents on both Hanukah and Christmas. This was due to the fact that my mother was Jewish and my father was Catholic and I loved it. I got twice the presents than my friends did, or at least that is what I told them.

Next thing I knew was that my mom was going to be having twins. I thought this was the greatest news, because I was finally going to have a little brother to pick on. But that was not the case. On April 12, 1986, my mom gave birth to two premature little girls. I was upset. I wanted the doctor to put one of them back and give me a brother. Unfortunately the doctor could not do that.

Shortly after my sisters were born, it all went down the drain. My father would come home late at night or not at all. Eventually he and my mom became separated. It was not until a few years later until I found out the reasons for the separation. The main reasons were that he was an alcoholic drug abuser, who pawned my mom’s irreplaceable jewelry to buy drugs. Oh, I almost forgot, he was also cheating on my mother. What a great husband! I also feel a big part of it was that he was not ready to be a father of three. Even though he and my mom were separated, I still got to see him every now and then.

When I saw him, it was only for a short period of time and I usually did not have a good time. Usually, he would take me with him to the Dry Dock, which was a bar in Hull. Isn’t that a great place for a six-year-old? I can also remember this one time when we went to play basketball at the playground at the end of my street. There were already some older kids playing, so we got put on separate teams. The first time he got the ball, for some reason, I kicked him in the testicles. I then stole the ball, passed it to my teammate, who then scored. All of the kids laughed when I kicked him, so I continued the whole game. I think the only reason he did not get mad at me was because he was probably either drunk or stoned. I look back and realize that what I did was wrong, but I think it was my anger towards him coming out.

The next time I saw him I was going to be staying overnight with him at his girlfriend Mary’s house. She had a little third story apartment. This turned out to be a disaster. They started fighting and she started throwing things at him, so we went outside. She still continued to throw things from her third story porch to the ground, until the police showed up. I ended up going home that night and my mom was not happy with what happened. The next thing I knew my father had moved to San Francisco, California.

One day in October of 1996, my Uncle Barry asked me if I wanted to go fishing with him. This was a regular occurrence, because after my father left, my uncle stepped in and became the father figure in my life. On this day there was a catch. My father was back in Massachusetts and he would be fishing with us. I decided I would still go. The day came when I was going to see my father for the first time in several years. I did not know what to expect, because it had been so long. Could it be true? Does my father actually want to be a part of my life after all of these years? Only time would tell. We went fishing and my uncle left us alone to talk, but I did not really know what to say. Part of me wanted to tell him that he was the biggest f***ing a**hole in the world, but I could not. I think this was because I was afraid of him leaving again. We talked for a little while. He then told me the reason he left was because of drugs and alcohol, and he apologized for leaving. I decided to forgive him and to change my blame from him to the drugs and alcohol. We then parted ways, for what I thought would only be a short amount of time.

I did not see or hear from him for a couple years until he came to one of my rugby games. After seeing him, I again thought we would see each other more. Boy was I wrong. After that he may have called the house about five times, if that. I also found out that he was up to his old ways again. I no longer blame the drugs and drinking for his actions. He made the choice to do them and he made the choice to leave his wife with three kids to take care of all by herself. The last time he called I refused to talk to him, because I knew if I did talk to him only bad things would have been said. As the saying goes, “ If you don’t have anything good to say, don’t say anything at all.” Personally I do not care if I ever talk to him again.

“We decided to pursue a different reality from that of our mothers. This is not because we think that theirs is wrong but because it does not fit the frame for the new picture of our lives” (50). While this is true for Milan, it is not true for my story because I believe that my father’s ways were and are wrong. My father’s ways have helped me make a lot of important decisions. First, I have chosen not to drink or to do drugs. This is because I saw how much alcohol and drugs messed up his life, and I never want to be like that. The main decision I have made is one that I cannot apply yet, and hopefully not for another couple of years. This is to be the best father in the world. By spending lots of time with my children and by never abandoning my wife and children like my father did. I know every man says he wants to be the best father in the world, but I actually plan on following through with it, because that is my major goal in life.

As you now know, Timothy Neas was only my father biologically. My true father throughout my life was actually my mother, who raised three kids on her own, without child support. Also, my Uncle Barry was like a father to me when I was growing up. There are still a few things about my father that will puzzle me for the rest of my life. First, I will always wonder what he thinks when it comes to abandoning his wife and children, or even if he thinks about it at all. Second, I will wonder how many sisters and or brothers I actually have out in this world. Milan and her cousins were given the opportunity to compare their lives to their mothers (50), just as I was able to compare my own life to that of my father’s. There are two lessons I hope you have learned by reading the story of my father. One, by doing drugs and drinking alcohol you might end up causing a lot of pain to one or more people. Lastly, if and when you decide to become a parent, do the best you can raising your kids, if not for them, then for the fact that I am sure none of you would want your kid writing an essay like mine about you.

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