I used to have this idea that if I ever had children (all theoretical since I never seriously thought about having children), I would try to participate in their lives as much as possible by checking out whatever they were interested in for myself. I wouldn't be all nazi about it, it would just be a guiding principle. At least dip my toes into whatever they were interested in, if not fully engage in it.

And there would be an age window in which I would implement this. There was some line in the movie "Hook" where the mother says that there are a few precious years when the kids are chasing after them for attention. After that, it will be the parents chasing after the kids. Theoretically, this approach would take advantage of those years where the kids were doing the chasing for attention.

My father had a guitar lesson yesterday. In his old age, he has been doing a lot of karaoke singing, and my mother got it in her head that he should try singing and playing guitar. If my parents had taken my theoretical approach to parenting, my father would already know how to play guitar, or at least he'd have the basics or know what it was about.

But my parents didn't pay much attention to our lives beyond our grades and that we were fed. They had little idea, much less interest, in what we were doing with our lives. They begrudgingly paid for a few months of guitar lesson, bought me cheap equipment through high school, and tolerated rehearsals in their basement. They could nominally say they supported my interest, but it felt like either they couldn't care less or that they were discouraging it. Not that I cared, since by that time I was hating them full-time. Being their child was a blow to my pride.

When senior year came around and I won some award in excellence in music, I asked the school not to tell my parents, but they said it was protocol to inform the parents. So when my parents came to the award ceremony without saying anything about hearing about it or that they were coming, I saw it as the pinnacle of their hypocrisy. When my name was called, I refused to go up and give them the satisfaction of taking credit for something for which they had no right to take credit.

That was then, this is now.

Now, my father had a guitar lesson yesterday. They had asked me whether I could teach him, but I declined. I legitimately said that I don't know how to teach. I've tried teaching various people through the years to remarkable failure. But I think the point here was that I wasn't even willing to try. I did offer one of my guitars, though. A nice one.

I guess I was mirroring them. I'm willing to provide the material object, but no moral or emotional support, no benefit of my experience or knowledge. I won't even play when they're in the house, but that's a whole nother issue.

He didn't enjoy the lesson. He might not continue. He looked like he might have been a little depressed afterwards, and my mother took him out afterwards so that he could get some exercise.

So what? Should I feel bad about this? I say that the past is over, let it go, and my unwillingness to engage in my father's current interest is not stubborn refusal. This isn't some sort of smug retribution. Although there definitely are issues floating around.

I do feel bad. If my father wants to learn guitar, I want him to learn and I want him to enjoy it. I don't want him to feel discouraged or depressed because it's not easy to learn an instrument. But I'm closing my eyes and listening to my breathing and I'm not throwing myself to make it easier for him; to make it fun enough to keep at it, but making it known that it will take time and practice to gain some proficiency. The causes and conditions aren't here at this time for me to be a part of this. And it's possible that those causes and conditions that aren't here are rooted somewhere in the past.