Bad grad = sad dad

Bad grad = sad dad

Posted on May 15th, 2009 by Ruby Mac

Dear Ruby,

I’m graduating from college this spring. My dad has always said that he would buy me a car when I graduated from college and he’s really excited about it and wants to go looking at cars with me. The problem is that I plan to move to a non-car-friendly city after graduation and I’d much rather have the money than the car. But he’s talked about this for so long and he’s so excited about it that I can’t say no. I kind of brought it up with my mom and she just said to make sure it’s a car I like. Any advice?

Bad Daughter in Boston

Dear BD,

Every generation of Americans has expected greater and greater acknowledgement by our parents of our unique oneness through the gifts they give us, and every generation of parents has fallen short. They buy us CDs of bands we no longer like, clothes we wouldn’t wear at gunpoint, and cook our favorite foods from 1993 even though we’ve told them repeatedly that we’re ovo-lacto vegans. We want what we want and what we want is for them to want what we want for us . . . and to pay for it.

BD, you’re a grownup now. Unless you spent the last four years in an all-girls boarding school with a nine o’clock curfew and nuns with nunchucks, you’ve made a lot of important decisions already and are on a strong course of self-determination.

My advice?

Take the car. Insist on the one you like best and let it drive you safely to your new home. Give your parents the pleasure of knowing they’ve put you in a seaworthy little ship to take you out of port and into the big wide world.

I know. It’s not your choice. And, you’ll lose money on this deal. It won’t pay for the deposit on your apartment or the cool Ikea stuff you were going to fill it with.

But, do it anyway. Your parents’ love for you is a bulky and heavy thing they’ve been carrying for a long time. Sometimes it blocked their ability to see what you really wanted because they wanted other things so badly for you. Make this your first step out of the dark hole of adolescence into the light of kindness and compassion.

You might find a car handy for a while, until you’re settled in, but if you sell it in six months to buy bookcases and a home-brewing kit, they’ll live. If you shave your head and join the Hare Krishnas, they’ll deal with it. They’re tougher than you think and so are you. But, I would opt to let them see you drive away in it, as safe and strong as they could make you.