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Fretful father files formal complaint
By Mark W. Mayfield
The words hit me like a ton of tuxedo-clad bricks: "A boy asked me to the Winter Formal," said my daughter, an innocent sophomore girl in a world of predatory sophomore boys
The Primal Dad Within Me wanted to scream, "I shalt smite the boy with my great and terrible sword of fatherly fury!
"Covereth thine eyes, O daughter, so ye shalt not seeth my burning anger devoureth him! Covereth thine ears, O daughter, so ye shalt not heareth his sorrowful cries for mercy! Covereth thine mouth, O daughter, so I shalt not seeth ye laugh while I speaketh like this!" (The Primal Dad Within Me likes using scary words like "smite" and "devoureth."
He learned the technique in 1969, when a cruel Sunday School teacher traumatized him with this terrifying threat:"If you don't stop making that sinful noise with your armpit, God shalt smite ye until ye can't see straight! He shalt smite ye upside your disobedient heathen head! He shalt also smite ye on your lower regions until ye can't sit down, and then the unquenchable flames of the Very Hot Place shalt devoureth you for eternity, which means you'll have plenty of time to play with your stupid armpits!")
Fortunately, the Calm, Understanding Outer Dad spoke up first. "That's wonderful!" I said with all the phony excitement that a Calm, Understanding Outer Dad could muster.
"What's this punk's ... I mean, what's this young man's name?" I sweetly inquired, knowing that restraining the Primal Dad Within Me would be impossible if she replied, "His real name is Wolfgang Doofus, but his friends call him 'Brewski.'"
But that's not what she said, and I must admit that the boy's real name sounded harmless enough. (Isn't that what shocked neighbors always say after the quiet, well-behaved boy down the street commits a horrific crime? "We just can't believe it," they say incredulously. "Wolfgang always seemed harmless enough.")
"Is he a nice boy?" I asked pleadingly, hoping she would reply, "Oh, dad, he's MORE than just a nice boy! He's the leader of his church's youth group, and he's forming a delegation of concerned teenagers that will urge Congress to ban televised beer commercials. His recent essay entitled 'Why I Agree with My Parents on the Importance of Abstinence, Sobriety and Early Curfews' was published in several major newspapers and magazines. Oh, and he's also the starting point guard on the varsity basketball team." But that's not what she said. She said, "Yes, dad, he's very nice."
"So, sweetheart, tell me all about what happens at a formal," I said nonchalantly. (I really don't know much about such things, because when I was in high school, I belonged to an elite organization called "Long-haired Losers Who Couldn't Get Dates Because We Always Reeked of Cigarette Smoke and Frequently Used Words That Weren't Very Nice.") I was hoping she would reply, "Well, everybody just stands around and discusses important global issues and listens to classical music. But that's not what she said. She said, "Oh, everybody just dances and stuff."
"What will you wear at this big formal?" I asked through clenched teeth, hoping she would reply, "Well, I'll probably wear something warm and bulky, something that covers me from my toenails to my bottom lip, something that completely conceals all of the anatomical changes I've experienced since my 13th birthday."
But that's not what she said. She said, "I'll ask Mom to help me shop for a cute dress." (This was bad news because my wife, who isn't equipped with a Primal Mom Within Her, is too liberal in her dress-choosing duties. In fact, she openly condones clothing that exposes my daughter's upper neck.)
Several weeks after my daughter's Formal announcement, my wife and I gathered with other parents to participate in the pre-gala tradition of taking heartwarming pictures of elegantly attired teenagers, including disobedient daughters who shalt surely seeth lots of fatherly fury for knowingly violating the sacred Showeth-No-Neck Commandment. The festivities progressed smoothly until a deranged middle-aged man suddenly lunged at my daughter's date, who had just violated the sacred Seeth-No-Neck Commandment.
The Primal Dad Within Me promptly apologized for the ugly incident and promised to behave himself for the rest of the evening.
Mark W. Mayfield (himark@firstworld.net) is forming a support group for other Primal Dads Within Me.
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Sunnyvale, California Since 1994
