Math Homework with My Father

I didn't find the parent-child relationships in Sarah Vowell's "Shooting Dad" and Brad Manning's "Arm Wrestling with My Father" very relatable. Growing up, my father and I rarely shared our opinions on matters of politics or hobbies, and certainly never arm wrestled. In fact, we still don't communicate much to this day, due to a combination of cultural, lingual, and generational divides.

Despite our lack of conversation, my dad and I have reached a mutual understanding. I suppose it's similar to Brad Manning's relationship with his father, although it manifests itself in different ways.

Throughout elementary school, my dad loved to help me with my math homework. He would always attempt to teach me something new, and I would usually become frustrated because I just wanted to finish my homework. Looking back, math was one of the few ways he could spend time with me, and so he took every chance he could get.

As I grew older, I also grew more independent--"a rebel in the household" (Manning 5), you might say. I refused to ask my dad for advice, believing I had everything under control, and becoming annoyed when he asked me questions. Only recently have I come to realize that his intrusions meant he wanted to help, that his frequent lectures about medical school are his way of showing affection. And so we've been reconciled: I still don't particularly enjoy his lectures, but I understand he just wants me to succeed in life. He doesn't ask for much in return; I suspect he'd just get embarrassed if I tried to tell him this. 

It's a peculiar kind of love, but as Manning illustrates, love isn't restricted to verbal communication.