No one who was a drunk would be a likely candidate for "father of the year." It doesn't take any deep digging to suspect that he probably wasn't an outstanding parent. All I know about their lives before I met them is what they've told me. They claim to have had happy childhoods. They are living what seem to be very successful lives.

I was saddened that they didn't call their father on Christmas. However, they will do what they will do. I'll never tell them what to do. It's not my place. I didn't raise them. How they are doesn't reflect on me. I suppose it does reflect on their father, since he was part of the parental team that did raise them.

I probably made myself needlessly unhappy feeling so sorry for this man. It's entirely possible that how they treat him is precisely what he has merited.

I've never thought of Christmas as a time when you
sit down and calculate exactly what people have earned and make very sure you don't expend a smidgen more of your time and effort giving anyone one tiny bit more than they have coming to them, based on your careful calculations. Not how I was raised. But different families have different values. That's life. I shouldn't let it upset me. But then I wouldn't be me. I think I'll stick to being me . . . just a bit less upset.