God knows, there are lots of movies and books that tackle father son relationships. Sometimes they�re about surrogate fathers. �Hearts in Atlantis� is one of those. I�ve had an entry buzzing around my head over that one for some time now so I won�t write too much about that movie right here. I�ll just say that it�s a film about a young boy growing up in a small town to a single mother. Then along comes a lodger in the same building who takes the boy under his wing. With this man�s support, encouragement, and subtle tutoring, the boy comes into his own. It�s a lovely little movie.

There have been a few surrogate fathers in my life. Some were relatives, others acquaintances and others were leaders in my career. I would have preferred any of them to my real father.

I never really liked my father. He was a selfish, petty creature who, very early on in my life, showed himself to be a man who liked to talk the talk but never walked the walk. I never trusted him. As a child, I saw my father as a loud-mouthed liar.

I can�t say I hated him. Although, God knows, he gave me reason to during my early teens. He used to drink a lot. He was, at first, mentally and verbally abusive and then he got nasty. He used to beat me as a young child � literally lift me off the ground. He used to lock me up on occasion �til I was, I don�t know�seven?

What was worse, he�d beat my mother. I remember seeing them in the laundry room. She�d be screaming her lungs out and he�d be slapping her onto the floor. Then when he realized I was standing in the doorway, he�d stop and sit on a chair looking sheepish, like he was embarrassed. I was so disgusted with that man.

And that shit never goes away. Those images, the beatings my mother would suffer on the houseboat on weekends while my sister and I would run away, the drunken slobbering state he�d get in, the verbal shit he�d spew at me. Yet, I never hated him. Odd that.

One of my fondest recollections of a pseudo father is of one of my bosses when I lived in Winnipeg. He was a supervisor for a time. He never seemed to ever be working. If he was, he made it look effortless. But he was my mentor. He fostered me along and taught me so much more than I realized at the time. He was supportive. He knew just how to motivate and encourage me. He always brought out the best in me. He showed me qualities that I didn�t even know I had. He carried me along until his retirement when I replaced him as the plant manager. I owe that man more than he or I will ever know. I really thought of him as a father figure, the kind of father I always wanted and never had.

My father changed his ways back in 1968. He quit drinking. Although he was still a prick to us all, he never laid a hand on us, ever again. Yet, I still resent him for who he was back then. And I still don�t like him.

So I watched �Road to Perdition� today and saw Tom Hanks transform from a distant patriarch to a true, loving, caring father. And I wished that were my story. But it isn�t, so I wept for it.

Arc