The snowstorm had already dropped more than a foot of snow when I finally completed my snow fort (with minimal assistance from my father). The fort was legendary; there were even unsubstantiated rumors that local news crews were circling the street to capture the architectural marvel. As I took a minute to reflect on my creation I saw a snowball fly by narrowly missing my shoulder. As I scanned the horizon to pinpoint the instigator’s position, my father feverishly grabbed snow, packed snowballs and launched them in the general direction where the snowball came from. My father appeared possessed; it was as if he thought he was in the Olympic Games. I questioned my father on his apparent overreaction. “Dad, is something wrong that is causing you to throw snowballs like a madman?” He muttered in between exhausted breathes, “I am just working to protect your fort.” Logically his response seemed farfetched to me and I thought, “There must have been some underlying themes in play which triggered such as an aggressive response.” My father’s buckshot approach to throwing snowballs was ineffective; consequently, I advised him to take a break and likely saved him from a heart attack. After a few seconds our neighbor from down the street and his daughter, Emily, emerged from behind a tree with their hands in the air signaling capitulation. My father remained guarded and bent down to collect another handful of snow. The neighbor scooped a handful of snow as he walked toward us and playfully lobbed a snowball at my father. My father responded by launching his version of MLB fastball at our neighbor that sailed about 3 feet over his shoulder. If nothing else, my father had set the tone he did not want any more snowballs launched in our direction.
The neighbor tried to chat up my dad up, but my dad was providing one-word responses which was usually a tell-all sign he didn’t want to converse with the other party. Finally, the neighbor dove into his underlying agenda, “Is it ok with you if Emily plays in the snow fort?” I promptly responded that it was fine. My father shot me a look as if I had just undermined him. After a few minutes of playing, Emily began knocking off portions of the fort, which did not go unnoticed. I expressed my displeasure with her actions and said, “I put in a lot of work to building this fort. Please do not knock off any more portions.” I know she heard me, as she acknowledged my request. Minutes later Emily was knocking off more portions of the fort. I thought, “What a callous act. This is obviously willful misconduct. Emily is deliberately trying sabotage my snow fort.” I took immediate action, confronting Emily regarding her actions. Emily was very dismissive stating, “It’s only snow; you need to relax.” I thought, “It was “just snow” until I molded it into this wicked awesome snow fort that commands respect.”
I advised Emily that she was no longer welcome in the snow fort if she was going to be destructive. My guidance was not well received as Emily then really ratcheted up her destructive activities. In a last ditch attempt to save my snow fort I ran over to my dad and neighbor requesting help in stopping Emily. Emily’s dad said, “It’s just snow, you will be fine.” Dumbfounded, I thought, “Was Emily coached through this exercise and were her nefarious activities planned from the get-go?” Desperate, I glanced at my father who gently shrugged his shoulders and gave me a look conveying he knew this was going to happen. I reticently acknowledged the reality my snow fort was ruined forever.
Emily joined us a few minutes later smiling from ear to ear. Then abruptly Emily and her father said goodbye and went off to their home. “Looks like Hurricane Emily did a number on your snow fort,” my father commented. I snapped back, “Why didn’t you do anything, Dad?” He responded, “I was going to state I didn’t think it was a good idea for Emily to play in the fort as I have witnessed past chaotic behavior, but you jumped in before I said anything.” I thought, “Oh, pin this catastrophe on me Dad, how clever.”
Sensing my frustration my father shared he had several interactions with the neighbor that did not go well and so he keeps his distance accordingly. After the explanation, my father’s odd behavior of rapidly launching the snowballs made more sense. He apparently seized the opportunity to let go of some pent-up aggression. He cautioned me about interacting with Emily moving forward. I then inquired, “Is there anything that can be done to stop a hurricane?” He responded, “Feed it grapes with a straw.” My question was a serious question. I can say random stuff too Dad. I rebutted, “I eat popcorn with a lifejacket on.” I thought, “My father is such a peculiar man. How does he navigate society IRL (In Real Life)?” To break the awkward exchange I vowed to rebuild with booby-traps and snowmen as guards to protect the fort from all imminent threats. I then paused and intently starred at him to demonstrate that was the creative thinking to which he needed to aspire. Gently nodding his head he replied, “Understood, Pentagon-like force protection would be advisable. Moreover, moving forward I understand that is imperative that I provide timely actionable advice, which I am firmly committed to doing.” “OK, a little overkill on the response Dad, but I am encouraged by the direction we are going”, I thought. I concluded the conversation stating, “Now with that improved attitude please help me rebuild the legendary fort.”