Latest update March 28th, 2024 12:59 AM
Jun 18, 2017 News
By Kiana Wilburg
There is no rulebook for being the perfect parent; no tried, tested and approved formula
for being the world’s greatest dad. Indeed, most would agree that the art of fatherhood is a recipe that is ever-changing.
At the stage of infancy, the recipe looks something like this: A handful of love, 10 hugs, 20 kisses, and loads of “I love you”, blended vigorously and served with a smile.
In the teenage years, the recipe will of course change considerably. You will, 9 times out of 10, have to add to that, a splash of patience, the essence of understanding and sprinkles of “Don’t do that!”
Whatever, the ingredients selected, every father must face the reality that the end product will not always be picture perfect. There will be half-baked arguments, salty tears, and sour words. But that is not the end of the world. The silver-lining in this cloud is that there is always a chance to pick up the pieces, and try again.
This is the very nature of the special bond I share with my dear father. We are still working on our recipe. Our only “friendly bicker” thus far, has been about how many drops of leverage/independence I should have. I actually want 100. He thinks I should be patient. Try 60 drops and see how that works out.
But that aside, my father, Robert Wilburg, has been my confidant, shoulder to cry on when I am hurt or my heart gets broken (which has not been a lot by the way); my go-to consultant on if my skirt is too short (and if it is above my knee, it is definitely short for him), and he is my favourite person to watch a movie with and do deep analysis right after. If you can’t tell by now, I am a Daddy’s girl. It is a badge I wear with honour.
But things aren’t always smooth as ever with me and my dad. I am sure you’ve heard of the adage, “You are your worst critic.” Well, with my father, that pales into insignificance.
During my primary and secondary school days, I have always been selected to be part of elocution competitions or debating contests. For debating, if I were on the Opposition’s team, my father, who has an obsession with English Language, Literature and Economics (areas he has studied for years), would ensure that I write not only my speech, but the speeches for every member of my team, including the preparation of rebuttal points.
And that was not all; he would make me research all the possible arguments and angles that could be used by the Proposition and then write mock speeches for each. You think it stopped there? Oh no. My dad would make me rehearse every single speech, my presentation of which he went through with a fine-tooth comb.
Very often, I was sent back to the drawing board. This, of course, was after he ripped the presentation of my speeches to pieces.
He constantly examined the logic in my arguments, clarity and proper development of points,
evidence used to support my position, presence of persuasive language, choice/placement of certain words, articulation of words etc. It was always, a gruelling exercise, to say the least. These sessions would start sometimes 8 pm and finish after 2 am.
For him, “You must and will not sleep until you get it right.” And should he detect a hint of complaint or disgust in my eyes, he would make me read a saying by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “The heights by great men reached and kept were not attained by sudden flight, but they, while their companions slept, were toiling upward in the night.”
But even when there was no debating competition, Robert Wilburg was still grilling me to bits and pieces.
And for some time, I used to think that my Dad was a mean person. There was no room for books about “The Little Mermaid,” “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,” “Pocahontas” or even “Jack and the Beanstalk.” Instead, there was room for books with a deeper, more conscious meaning. These included “The Sheldon Book of Verse” “Macbeth,” “Hamlet”, “Julius Caesar,” “The Merchant of Venice”, “Chains and Images of Psychological Slavery,” and “Poems of Resistance from British Guiana 1954,” all of which I started before High School.
You can rest assured that there was a rigorous cross-examination after anything he gave me to read. I disliked it at the time, but today, I can’t thank him enough for being a most profound gardener of my mind, and for permanently perfuming my soul with the thirst and appreciation for the fine arts.
My father’s struggle to ensure that he instilled in me, an undying love for knowledge and self development, has manifested throughout the years. For him, it is one of the most valuable possessions he can pass on to me, for he always says, “Every material asset in this life can be taken away from you, but no one can steal your education.”
A SECURITY-MINDED FATHER
Sooner or later, I think my father will reveal to me that he has ties with the CIA. And when he does, all I will have to say is, “I KNEW IT!” To be quite frank here, I have never met someone who is as security-minded as my father.
If I am taking a taxi to go anywhere, even if it is just to work, (which is less than five minutes from where I live), my father makes a mental note of the licence plate number, what the taxi driver looks like, what he’s wearing, and even tries to form a short conversation to mentally record the person’s voice in his head.
And anyone who has been around me for quite some time would attest to the amount of times my father, who holds a First Degree Black Belt in Karate, would call to check up on me. And almost every time I am heading out, before I enter one of my favourite hangout spots, I get a call from my dad.
“Kiana, did you arrive at your destination safely? Who are you going to be with? Is the person a safe person? Is your hangout spot safe? Do they have security there? Are you moving from that location to another location before the night is over? Okay, make sure you put your phone in a safe place. Watch out for suspicious men and women. Watch your glass. And if you are out with Abena, (my cousin and workmate), watch her glass too. Make sure she is home safe and sound and when you are on your way home, text me the car number and what the driver is wearing, what he looks like, and if possible his age range. Now you go and have a good time.”
About two hours later, you can bet your bottom dollar that my papa will make three other calls before I make my way home. He doesn’t need anything other than to hear, “Everything is going well Dad.”
“THE WORLD’S GREATEST LOVER”
Now that I am in my 20s, my father and I are able to engage in much more mature conversations, particularly about life. In the olden days, he recalled how my grandmother, who passed away at the age of 45 to cervical cancer, would always tell him, “Robbie, You got to be the World’s Greatest Lover.”
As stern as he is, my father is a lover to his core. He is unapologetic about it. He loves everything about love and being completely immersed in it.
For him, there is no other feeling in the world that can compare to loving someone and being loved in return. Needless to say that he has had an enjoyable life being quite the Casanova in his heyday.
Of course, in love, you win some and you lose some. And my dad, who has a passion with health and fitness, is very candid about the cards he has been dealt in the game of love, and how much he gambled on it, only to lose in the long run.
His final big gamble was his relationship with my mother. That did not work out. I am proving to him every day he was not the one who lost anything in the long run. I will continue to confirm this fact for as long as he is alive.
At 63, Mr. Wilburg has quietly collected his PhD in Matters of the Heart, and has secluded himself to a stress-free lifestyle with his 30-year-old girlfriend and an ever-growing friendship with his three daughters; two of whom, Samantha and Stephanie, reside in the USA.
In sharing his life lessons with me, my father, who has been an educator for over 30 years, feeds me with daily doses of caution, a sense of humility, and respect for all. He is continuously moulding and fashioning me into a sophisticated young woman with the spirit and mindset of a soldier.
In the next few years, if I could be half the parent my dad is to me, it would unequivocally be the greatest accomplishment of my life. I would be living proof that his recipe for fatherhood worked out after all.
THIS IDIOT TELLING GUYANA WE HAVE NO SAY IN THE 50% PROFIT SHARING AGREEMENT WE HAVE WITH EXXON.
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