I don’t know whether it is just me or if anyone else has this kind of relationship with their blood relatives. The whole you can pick your friends but not your family, well some days I wish we could.

I have never had a close relationship with my mother, father or three older brothers. I knew mum and dad loved me and I love them but I always felt like the black sheep. My oldest brother left home at 15 and went to work in the railway. My next oldest was a cricketer of some repute in the day and my next brother was a cricketing STAR and still is. Many around town knew of the “Logan boys” and their sporting prowess. Many more new of my fathers skills and expertise in motor building. Mother worked odd jobs all over and was always the faithful wife by dads side, in sickness and health (I don’t remember much of the health, mostly sickness). She worked selling tickets for charities, the corner shop at the beach when we went on holidays and was there for us all it seemed.

Then there was me, the youngest “Logan”. At school everyone thought i would be the great sports star like my two older brothers. Boy were they wrong. I got knocked out in my first cricket match. I was the wicket keeper (why I don’t know as my brothers were batsmen and bowlers) and out paceman “Jonesy” sent a screamer that made it past the batsman, past the stumps and past my gloves. Good thing my head was there to stop it going to the boundary for four byes. So I gave tennis a go. Day one on the tennis court, I tossed the ball up to serve when a cricket ball, from the practice nets next to the court, came over the fence and smashed me on the top of the head and, you guessed it, knocked me out. Football and soccer never appealed to me, to many rules, so next up was hockey (not ice but field for you peoples in the northern hemisphere).

I actually was not bad at hockey and did play it for many years until one time when I representing my district, I was made goalie because the guy who was meant to be was sick. Not a worries, I had played goalie in training many times, so give me the gear and I will suit up. All the gear was with the sick goalie, back home, four hours away. We scavenged gear from other teams, any spares they had and managed to get all we needed except one piece. Groin protection, a box, a cup or what ever it is called in your land. So the only thing protecting my “manhood” was a thin layer of cotton and a thinner layer of polyester (my undies and shorts). You will never guess what happened in the first game? Yep, right in the meat and two veg, the mummy and daddy button, the franks and beans. Of to hospital we went (when “they” swell up and turn black you should seek medical advice). Go in to see the doc who tells me to ice them and go see my doc back home in a week if there still problems. Well there were still problems a week later. I was given the choose of no sport, rough housing or any kind of activity that will aggravate my potatoes in any way for the next six months OR cut them off. Guess which I choose as a 15-year-old boy? Six months went by and i was cleared and announced healthy again.

Which brings me to today where I am married and have two kids (they definitely mine, poor son looks just like me and daughter is my personality thru and thru). I loved my Dad but I do not remember ever thinking I want to be like him, follow him in career or hobbies ect. Growing up he was forever getting me to help with cars, radios and electric things. Really turned me off them as a young man. Now thou I wish I had done more with
him, especially with the cars as I now have a love of old cars. But it is too late for that now, way to late. Looking at the way my son is with me reminds me of my time with my dad, he doesn’t want to do things I do, work or hobby wise. It use to bother me, I felt like i was doing something wrong and being a bad father maybe. Now I know it is just the way it is with teenagers, I know both from reflecting on my younger self and by talking to my shrink about it (He says it is normal, it must be. He the doc). I want to do more with my boy (I do a lot with my girl, we been shooting, comic cons, photography) but I am not going to force him and drive him away. So long as I am there for him and he knows it, well, it is all I can do.