How to Be a Deadbeat Dad

I have a dirty little secret and it is time to spill the beans: I used to be a deadbeat dad. Who is a deadbeat dad? According to dictionary.com a deadbeat dad is "a father who willfully defaults on his obligation to provide financial support for his offspring. Translated into deadbeat dad English, he is a father who drops out of the scene and decides not give any of his money to his kids. A deadbeat dad is a drop out who quits or splits or gives up on being a father. I dropped out on my daughter when she was only three months old. I wanted out of my first marriage for reasons that made a lot more sense in 1987 than they do today. My daughter's mother was a good woman and my daughter was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, but I checked out anyway, and for the next 17 years and 9 months I was a prime example of an on-again off-again deadbeat dad who appeared and disappeared in and out of his daughter's life like a mad magician in a traveling road show. The years passed as they always do. And all those disappearing acts, all the times I checked out of my offspring's life and into the deadbeat dad motel, took a costly toll on the detached relationship I now share with the little girl I never got to know: my 20-year-old grown-up daughter.

Kids grow up fast. Sure, it is an old song, but it is true, especially for any dad who holds his newborn baby in his arms moments after they cut the umbilical cord. The first few minutes of my daughter's life, when she looked up and peered entrancingly into my eyes for several minutes, was the kind of unforgettable moment every father cherishes. Or was it? My emotions that night nearly 21 years ago are hazy now, but I think a Vulcan mind scan at the time would have revealed a young man who felt like bolting for the door the instant he became a father. I was not ready to become a daddy. Of course, it was too late. That is the thing about becoming a parent: you are not one and then suddenly you are.

Rule #1: Check out early
Becoming a deadbeat dad was easy. After my daughter's birth I stuck around for a few months plucking the self-serving strings of my woebegone existence, wondering why at 28 my life seemed so dull and dreary, why my short marriage had become such a big yawn. I spent much of my time preoccupied by my own vanity, wallowing in self pity and numbing myself with the mundane comforts of food and sex and primetime TV. What I lacked in passion and direction I made up for in self indulgence. During the obscure and self-indulgent years of my mid-twenties I never found the right path or felt any real serenity. I had everything going for me. I was still in the first half of the big game and had plenty of time to make a success of my life. I was smart, good looking and charismatic enough to nail down just about any job or career I wanted. I just had no idea what I wanted. I needed a heart song, and while I was busy looking for one I neglected to see the beautiful symphony of love all around me. I forgot to take notice of my life. Fearful, anxious, and depressed, I sabotaged my marriage to the breaking point, told my wife I wanted out, and said goodbye.

Rule #2: Stay on the radar
Research shows that the average deadbeat dad is a poor breadwinner. Some men are poor breadwinners by chance, others by choice. I was the latter, a perpetual late bloomer and starry-eyed dreamer who blew more career chances than a troll on monster.com. Of course, this made no difference to the red tape robots at the child support agency, the case working drones who never had the luxury of seeing me as a human being or caring about my case. Their job was to track me down and make me pay. It made no difference how little I made or how hard it was for me to make it, I was the father and I was going to pay. There were laws and regulations, the government had guidelines, and in the end I had to pay. Although I missed plenty of payments, I consistently stayed on the deadbeat dad radar screen. From my little girl's diaper days until her freshman year at university I moved at least 50 times and had more than 100 jobs. I did all kinds of work, from stints as a male stripper and television sports anchor to gigs as a dive master and wedding deejay, and lived in five states - California, Idaho, Texas, Hawaii, and Oregon - and four Asian countries, all before my daughter danced at her senior prom. I flew under the radar a few times, switched to stealth mode now and again, but for most of my deadbeat dad years I stayed on that big screen for one reason: to keep in contact with my daughter.

Rule #3: Stay in the game
Never under any circumstances withdraw completely from fatherhood. While my wimpy, halfhearted attempt at being a daddy certainly had its downsides - and a few upsides along the way - at least my daughter knew who I was. Or did she? I bounced in and out of her life like a basketball player in a powder-puff game who never really sank into her conscious mind. I was always an outsider, a benchwarmer, desperately competing for her attention and the chance to show her my daddy game. But I could never really bring it. Deadbeat dads like me do not have the aptitude; we have to ride the pine. I got into the game only a few times each season, and when I did I overeagerly fumbled and stumbled my way up and down the court trying to make up for lost time. That is the thing about lost time: you can never make it up. At times my daughter seemed to view me as some sort of silly stooge wearing a false clown suit of paternity. What I wanted more than anything in the world was for my daughter to see me as her dad without the deadbeat, but it was never meant to be. I gave her up when she was three months old. And there were other men, father figures in her life, who helped take that title away from me. But I stayed in the game. I made payments when I could, and let the arrears ride when I could not, and in the end I was still in the game. Twenty years later, when I finally shook the deadbeat daddy monkey off my back, my daughter hardly noticed. But I was still in the game.

Rule # 4: Stay out of jail
Some deadbeat dads go to jail for failure to pay child support. The bureaucracy of child support enforcement includes hordes of public agencies and head honchos hell-bent on finding deadbeat dads across the globe. There are 'wanted' websites dedicated to tracking the criminals down, garnishing their wages, and if need be, putting them behind bars. Who do these pencil-pushing public servants think they are? The answer: They believe it is their job and duty, regardless of how callous, insensitive or iron-fisted they must become, to protect and defend innocent children from the biological fathers who have abandoned them. That is the black and white version; here it is with a few shades of gray: not all the sons and daughters of deadbeat dads need the help. My daughter never went hungry or lived in squalor or attended a crumbling inner city school rampant with drugs and violence. She grew up in relative ease and comfort supported by an upper middle class family with a strong financial portfolio. She had a good childhood. I missed out on most of it, and a lot of monthly child support payments in the process, but she always had everything she needed and then some. By the time my daughter turned 18 I owed her mom around 10K, not much when compared to the arrears of 100K-plus often racked up by dads who do jail time. The enforcement system finally caught up to me two years later in Bangkok, Thailand, when I applied for a new passport. I had two options: pay off my child suport debt in full or fly back to the USA. I settled the account for just over $12K.

Rule #5: Never give up
There are two kinds of deadbeats dads: the ones who disappear and the ones who stick around. In the end daughters just want their dads to be there for them. Paying off my arrearages was only part of the solution, because like most matters of the heart, it is not the money that really matters. I did everything I could to be there for my daughter - both emotionally and financially - when she was growing up, but I still fell far short of her expectations, and mine. Did I really do my best? Did I really do everything I could to make sure she knew she had a dad who loved her unconditionally? No way. Yet despite my failings as a father we managed to make a lasting impression on each other; somehow, we found an unspoken connection in the odd and intangible patchwork of memories, both real and imagined, within a myriad of magical and maladroit moments shared between a daughter and a deadbeat dad who loved her no matter what. She must know how much I love her. I may have checked out early, but I stayed on the radar, in the game and out of jail, and I never, nope, not ever, gave up. The rest is up to her, and time. Time heals all wounds and gives everyone a fresh perspective. With enough time even a former deadbeat dad like me might get the chance to make things right.