The 100,000 mile club

The latest thing I'm getting rid of is a 12" x 12" official (but cheesy) document with my father's name on it saying he's a member of United Air Lines 100,000 MILE CLUB. "In appreciation of your valuable contribution to air transport progress." It's signed by Edward E. Carlson, the President of United, and my guess is that it dates back to the mid seventies. Dad traveled a lot then. I remember being bemused when, just before my 10th birthday, my mother uncharacteristically spoke up in protest of one of his business trips. She claimed that he'd missed 8 of my first 10 birthdays. I hadn't noticed. I don't remember caring. Ouch.

I've kept the mile club certificate for about two years (since I unearthed it among other paperwork), planning on sending it to my dad for his amusement. But it's an awkward shape, and while I didn't want to fold it, I also obviously never went to the trouble of buying an envelope that it would fit in or rolling it to send to my dad. With my new understanding of Dad (my mom and sister and I reviewed the facts a bit more last weekend), I'm thinking it's best for everyone involved if I just throw it out. I doubt he remembers it exists, anyway, and I cannot conceive of any good coming of sending it to him now.

Why keep it? Why have something that reminds me of my father's chronic distancing from his family and his responsibilities if I really don't care? Does the presence of this funky dated thing he'd been given make up for his absence from my childhood? Or just serve to suggest to me on some level that I should be outraged, even though I'm not?

My sister said we'd been victims of negligence. I'd said, "Thank God for that." Again, ouch. But there it is.

I've also gotten rid of more clothes and some books and whatever optimism coffee had given me during the day and 2 glasses of wine had given me during dinner. But this last thing, the optimism, is quite likely to return of its own accord after some shut eye and/or after D and I actually sit down in the livingroom with no computer and no video games going and spend time together talking - a rare occurrence, these days.

The BIC time spent with the gals from the writer's group this morning did me no end of good, too. Their encouragement, sympathy and suggestions all were very much appreciated. I think a very creative country is on the horizon. I just have to slogging through the cold, lonely Derth of Enthusiasm to get there.