On Naiveté, Trust, and Being Related to a (Former) Spy (by Tara)

I was honestly honored when Wendi asked me to be a guest-blogger this week. Then I realized what that meant…. I would have to entertain her vast readership. And—and this was even more frightening to me—I might have to follow the famous and ever-hilarious Josh Huisman. I also worried that I wouldn’t have anything super-interesting to say.

Well, many of you have probably read the “bank” blog from a few days ago (I don’t know how to do the fancy thing Wendi does to link blogs so you’ll just have to scroll down to see Saturday’s post) and, if you haven’t met me, now know me as “the girl who didn’t know about drive-through banking.” This is probably a good lead-in to what I’m about to tell you. Honestly, I must walk around with my head in the clouds (or down facing the ground, trying to pick up pennies, dimes, and other small coins that I hope people haven’t glued to the sidewalk). Alternatively, which provides an explanation I prefer, I am very trusting and am comfortable with the way things usually are and so don’t go searching for new and innovative things (or more interesting explanations). So here it is…..

MY DAD WAS A SPY. Yep, I am not pulling anyone’s legs here. Although sometimes I complain that my life is so boring, Wendi reminds me that this is quite interesting and that not everyone has a father who was in the CIA for 20 years. But exactly how interesting, not even I know. I don’t inquire enough, apparently. Something additional to mention, and perhaps something which is equally as interesting (although perhaps not surprising given the recent bank-madness), is the fact that I was totally clueless.

I lived overseas in South Asian countries for most of my childhood (until I was 14 or so). My parents worked for the U.S. Government as foreign service officers (or so I thought!). They went off to work at the embassy, I went to my little schools, and all was good. One time my Dad disappeared for 4 months on “business,” but I thought that that was normal (fine, fine, laugh all you want). Then we moved back to the U.S. (McLean, VA). I remember asking my parents one time, “If you work at the same place, why do you take separate cars to work?”. I got some well-crafted, fluff answer, and promptly forgot the whole thing.

I found out my Dad’s real profession one day when we were all driving in the car somewhere. I was sixteen years old (so I guess, either my mom or dad was driving and my sister and I were riding). There was no momentous “I’m going to come clean to my daughters” dinner or anything. He just popped out with “Girls, I don’t do what you think I do.” He revealed that he had, for 20 years, worked with the CIA (and could then tell us because he was about to retire). We were stunned. Arguably, I am still stunned. I felt so deceived. By someone who supposedly loved me! I vowed never again to trust men. Just kidding.

In any case, besides my mother, who had to drive him to drop off locations and make sure his disguises were “passable,” only my grandparents and godparents knew. At least I then knew why they drove separate cars :). As far as I know (which I tend to believe because my mom is NOT deceptive), she really does work for the foreign service. He’s no longer with “The Agency,” which is why I can now tell you all this. And what do retired spies do, you might ask…. lots of normal things, such as walking the dogs, buying groceries, making dinner, surfing the net, writing screenplays, collecting knock-offs of baroque paintings (I kid you not)…. My Dad has many hobbies. But what did he do?? This I really have no clue about.

I know that one time he had to plant a bug in someone’s mailbox. So he had to have a “cover” or reason to be at that residence. He does speak Russian and I suppose had to evade Russian spies. One time he had to eat wonton soup through an uncomfortable mask. While he is very analytical and reads people very well, he didn’t give any polygraphs to any of my boyfriends (who, as one might imagine, tend to be a bit nervous about meeting my Dad for the first time [especially because he already has a file on them… he he. And he’s so good he doesn’t need polygraphs to tell when someone is lying. Just kidding.]). But this is really where my knowledge ends. And where your intrigue starts.

So this is going to open up the floor for a forum for asking me questions (which I will, subsequently, relay to my father). Please use the comment button. Many of you have already asked me some of these questions, to which I have had to respond “I don’t know.” I am sick about being berated for not asking questions I SHOULD HAVE. So ….what do you want to know about what a spy (well, specifically, my father) does/did? I don’t know if he ever killed anyone. I will ask. Some of it is likely confidential, but I will promise you I will do my best to find out “da goods.” Bring it :)! And, despite my earlier comment, I am very trusting. I trust all of you. And I trust you to not make fun of me for not knowing about drive-through banking. Or that I didn’t pick up on the fact that my Dad was a spy. Tell all your friends to read this blog so I win the blog-off. I don’t want to get shown up by the Huismans. Maybe Wendi will invite me back someday :)

Peace, everyone! We miss and love you, Wendi!