This is the personal blog of Adam J. Schirling, the founder and editor-in-chief of Drunken Absurdity, a revolutionary ezine. For the best in alternative literature, poetry, art, movies and more go to This blog is strictly for my personal rants, some dirty pics, and the occasional cool story or sweet tunes.

Father's Day 2012

>> Sunday, June 17, 2012

99% of the people who read my work, or are fans of Drunken Absurdity, have no idea that I am a father of three wonderful children. And there is a reason for that. I keep that part of my personal life very private and separated from my role as a gonzo writer and grit poet. You will never see me post pictures of my kids, write articles about my kids.....It is simply a part of my life that I have no desire to share with the masses. Some folks out there on the interwebs cannot stop posting pics or blogging about their kids. They have Tumblr pages filled with stupid crap that should not be in a public forum, and that disgusts me.

But I digress. Father's Day is a special day for me, simply because I had TWO fathers bail on me in life, a natural father and a step-father. Neither taught me a thing about how to be a man. So when I think of fathers to be appreciative of, I think of my maternal grandfather, James Valentine Stewart. He was a man's man. WWII Marine combat vet, police officer for 45 years, father of 6: To me he was the epitome of manhood, a true warrior. He smoked 2 packs a day until his 70s, wore slacks and a tie just to go to the store, ate a pile of red meat daily; and died at a very ripe old age in a warm bed surrounded by his loved ones and friends. Very few lifetime warriors get to go out in such a way. When I was growing up, I was the oldest of many kids, and never liked being around the chaos of my house. So many nights, I would go down the street to Pop's house. We would sit in his immaculate living room, eating roast beef and red cabbage and rye bread, while he smoked a mountain of cigarettes and we watched WWII movies. That was my youth, and his stoic stories of war and policing the streets of New York City formed my very soul, the very backbone of my manliness.

So I am now a father of my own, and it is something I love more than words can describe. It is a hard job, harder than war on some days, and it is one that leaves me fulfilled and content with the chaotic indifference of the universe. In my role as the Pater Familias, I have to constantly exert my authority against She Who Will Not Be Named in order to keep my role as pater familias for 2 of my 3 children secure and sound. My children are smart, they are talented, and the successes and accolades they have coming in life will be worth every headache. Sometimes I catch myself being harder on my son, punishing him a bit more often and with slightly harsher punishments. My wife sometimes thinks that I am just being mean I suspect, but that is the farthest thing from the truth. I am harder on him, because one day he will be a man, and will be expected to have the stomach, heart, and balls to defend his country, protect his family, and lead them through a world that daily is growing scarier and chaotic. Regardless, when I look in the eyes of my children, I see the fire in them that has burned within me since birth; the fire to learn, and create, and change the world. And I do not doubt their ability to do just that whatsoever, I know they will not be resigned to a life of mediocrity and minimum wage. For they are Schirling.

Happy Father's day to the real men who truly know what it is to be a pater familias.


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