My Parents Will Never Be Proud Of My Writing

I could win a Pulitzer Prize for blogging and my parents wouldn’t show up to the award ceremony.

Oh, they don’t give the Pulitzer Prize for blogging? Shit. Ok. Well, it was a long shot anyway.

Regardless, if I won the PP for something, they wouldn’t be there. They’re not proud of me as a writer. I have my doubts that they’ve read even one of my blogs.

My father likes to read the parts of the Bible he misinterprets to justify his narrow-minded views, sports boxscores, and I suspect, MAGA-supporting news articles. Reading novels or blogs isn’t high up on his to-do list. He’d hate my blog for a number of reasons. He’s not a fan of my politics or disdain for organized religion. That hurts.

HAHA! Just kidding! I don’t give a damn.

My mother is the big reader in my family. She’s been known to read a number of books a week. Though she’s the kinder, more book-smart, patient parent of my two, I know she’d also dislike my blog if she read it.

There would be too much cursing for her tastes. She wouldn’t appreciate my negative thoughts and doubts about Christianity. Perhaps she read the first few of my early blogs and thought, “Nope.”

It’s probably for the best. I can’t imagine anyone overtly religious and pro-GOP enjoying my blog. I’d probably hate it too.

Religion and politics are two of the biggest reasons for families to become distant and estranged. In our immediate family of two parents and two sons, I’m the black sheep.

I’m the only one who loathes Donald Trump and Republican beliefs. I’m the only one who would proudly admit that I don’t believe in the traditional Jesus/Satan relationship, and can’t honestly admit to believing in a Heaven and Hell. At least the ones most Christians believe in.

For this reason, my immediate family will never read my writing.

They’re not the only ones. My Bride’s parents would never read it, either. Her father is 82 years old. Her mother is an immigrant from Vietnam who gained her citizenship in the 70s after marrying Mai’s father. She’s the biggest Trumper and Fox News watcher since… well, my parents.

Because my Bride and I both are liberal, socialist, communist, tree-hugging hippies, at least in their minds, we’re the enemy. At least in terms of my writing and most of our beliefs. Know your enemy, folks. We’re not it.

We see them during the holidays. A few times a year at most. We’re all usually fairly polite and can tolerate one another in small doses. We’ve learned to avoid speaking about politics together. But our religious and political differences have made our familial relationships strained.

We both have often wondered what it would have been like to have had parents who supported our endeavors throughout life. Ones who didn’t shoot down and instantly dismiss our views, beliefs, lack of faith, or whatever else keeps us distant. It would have been nice.

Fortunately, we have three wonderful children. They love and appreciate the things we are all about, and vice-versa. They have similar political views, want no part of organized religion, and laugh at everything they can think of under the sun. We feel that we did right by them, the way they were raised.

If I win a Pulitzer Prize one day, they’d be there for the ceremony. Front row. They’d probably start doing the wave. I’d laugh and attempt a stage dive. “Quick, someone call 911! BOOMER DOWN, REPEAT, BOOMER DOWN!”

I’ve learned that family isn’t always the people you share DNA with. Just because you grew up with a parent or two, a couple of siblings, and a family dog doesn’t mean any of them are going to care enough about you as a human being to support the things you do in life. Especially if it contradicts their own personal beliefs.

The dog might. But they don’t last more than 15 years, generally speaking. My family dogs have all come and gone. At least Libby thinks I’m cool. She thinks Donald Trump is an asshole, too. She can’t stand Fox News blasting at volume 70, either. She’d rather watch the Westminster Dog Show. Or an Arby’s commercial.

Family is the people who encourage you to do the things that make you feel happy and fulfilled. The ones who know that your writing is your passion, and the thing that fuels your soul. I am so blessed and fortunate to get that from other sources beyond my parents.

My Bride is my biggest supporter. She believes in me and knows how much time, effort, and passion I’ve put into my new Writer’s Journey. I’ve only been on this road since January, but she’s been walking with me every step of the way. She’s my number one fan.

You all are my second family. My Medium community more than makes up for the lack of support I get from my parents and in-laws. You all know and understand the writer and the man that I am.

You’ve seen many of the almost 400 blogs I’ve written in 2022. The articles I’ve published. The hypocrisy I’ve called out. The changes I’ve yearned for so that marginalized groups of people can have actual, real acceptance and not have to worry about being killed for their differing beliefs. You get it.

So many of you have left the most wonderful, uplifting, encouraging comments on so many of my blogs. I’ve tried to answer them all, though I’m certain I’ve missed a few. I’ll catch one here and there on blogs from months ago and immediately comment back. That may seem random and strange, but I love to appreciate you all, even if I’m a couple of months late doing it.

Family always has each other’s backs. Family doesn’t care if you worship a different god or no god. Family doesn’t mind who you choose to love. Family encourages your writing and wants you to be happy on your terms, not theirs.

I thank you all for being my family. And please RSVP for my eventual Pulitzer Prize ceremony. I want as many of you there as possible in 2050, should my writing finally be good enough to win one by age 76. &:^)