As a teenager,
there
was a day when I drove my father’s pickup truck
down
a dirt road that meandered through the woods,
skirting
north of the fields of my grandfather’s farm.
My
cousin was tagging along.
Overhanging
the narrow dirt road
was
a palm frond
that
bent back the radio antenna of the truck
and
snapped it clean in two.
I
told my cousin Eddie
that
my dad is not going to believe this.
We
were baffled and mesmerized by how this happened.
He
asked me to take him back to the farmhouse
before
breaking the news to my father…
On
returning home,
I
recounted the incident to my dad.
He
was visibly upset
when
I handed him the broken part of the antenna.
He
could not understand how a palm frond
could
break off the antenna of his truck.
So, I drove him to the very tree where the antenna made contact with the palm frond that broke it off like a twig.
His skepticism was not subsided, and he exclaimed,
“There was no way that this palm frond
could
have broken the antenna!”
I
responded, “Dad, Eddie was with me when it happened;
he’ll confirm that this was the palm frond!”
In
strained silence,
we drove back home.
What
I couldn’t determine
was
whether he was mad at me
because
he thought that I was driving his truck
irresponsibly,
or that I was lying, or both?
I
came to realize from this experience
that
telling the truth does not always
bring
about satisfaction to everyone.
I
regret damaging my dad’s truck,
but
I was satisfied with telling the truth.
It
was my fault for brushing the antenna
up
against the palm frond in passing.
As the radio was unable to pick up a signal
because
the antenna was broken until replaced,
it
was painful to see my father’s inability
to
receive this simple truth from me.
He
never did ask my cousin Eddie
because
I think he thought Eddie would lie
to
protect me.
This
experience caused me to wonder if perhaps
my
dad was in some way broken, too?
For
he could not or would not
believe when his children were speaking the truth to him.
I never knew what it was that bent my dad until he broke, but it was never repaired.
Since then, nothing was ever said about the day I broke the antenna.
Dad replaced it the next day,
but
the real damage had already been done,
making
no attempt to ever fix it.
