Saw Gran Torino today. Great movie. I learned a lot from the main character. I learned that maybe it’s okay if I just settle down and become the mean old man I was meant to be. But I won’t go around telling gook gangsters to get off my lawn. And not only because I don’t have a classic old M-1 Garand to threaten them with (I wish I did, those are lovely rifles). I’m really not like that. And anyway, no one ever comes into our cul-de-sac. No one who likes to threaten folks. If they do, well, sayonara, y’all.
The Eastwood character confesses one of his sins as being that he never got very close to his sons. Didn’t really know how. Today I told my son I feel the same way. He seemed surprised. Maybe we’re closer than I think. But I will always know (as every father knows) I could have done better. I have a particular memory. Back when he was twelve or so we went fishing. I never fished and didn’t know what to do, really, and pretty soon was upset with myself for not having the basic knowledge. I was also upset with myself for not really knowing how to just be there and relate to him. As my mood deteriorated I related it to the emptiness I found when reaching in for genetic knowledge. By genetic I mean learned at a parent’s knee. I have no solid memories of father-son time of my own, and thus had little to pass on. I had to make it up as I went and it didn’t always turn out so well, especially this time. My son just wanted to go fishing with his dad. I reached deep into my gut for fishing-with-dad memories and my hands came out empty. I wound up very sad, and this put me in an angry mood, I was probably short with him, all the usual bad moments all parents have. We didn’t catch anything either.
I was talking to my dad on the phone recently. I love and respect him but within me the relationship is complicated. We talked about my son, the one whose college career hasn’t quite taken off yet. He’s trying, but he’s too much like me to really find his direction. Hopefully that will change. Anyway, I don’t recall exactly but I did make the distinction between him and me by saying that he has parents. By this I meant he has people trying to understand him and give him direction. I realized my indiscretion quickly and kept talking to move the conversation away from there. A trick of fear and denial that is probably genetic. I hope he wasn’t upset. Dad, I mean. Maybe he’ll read this. But there’s no message. I know it’s been years since any of the pain could be managed in any way other than by acknowledging that, well, time has passed. Too bad. Or as my mom once said: Sorry.
Time is a river and it carries a lot of sand and dirt. I think all of us must have a pretty good layer of sediment in our riverbeds by now. You know, as the river keeps flowing it smoothes the sediment out, wears down the boulders, sometimes digs a deeper channel so the surface can flow more smoothly. That’s an awfully cheesy analogy, isn’t it? I don’t even know what I mean. Something about settling down, as sediment settles. My brain is getting old and sometimes it just wants to settle. You know, shout out to the stars above, Look, you bastards, I’ve done enough! I will never be content so just leave me the fuck alone! But I’m not sure they would understand. Being gods, they are really just a reflection of myself so, no, they will not understand.
3 comments:
wow. sounds like the inside of my head lately. you know, the parenting stuff that returns and reminds and haunts. but you roll on. because you're just loving them the best you know how. hopefully each subsequent generation gets it a little more right. or that's what i like imagining, anyway.
I think it must be easier for moms and daughters, because we can always "go shopping" (meaning we walk around and talk and talk and buy a snack and only sometimes actually shop) -- in fact, we do that all the time and end up sharing a lot of stuff we might not have said otherwise. Dads seem to need a goal, such as catching fish or teaching someone to drive in order to spend time together.
That said, it ended up not working out all that great for my mom and me because the older I got the more I resented her constant nosiness and "help." I'm trying to be on guard for that with my girls. I don't need to know everything they're doing every second, and I'm determined not to be a pest. Of course, they find reasons to be annoyed with me anyway, but hey.
I'm also done striving for something else. This is it, and it's good enough. I'm just too tired.
I'm also done striving for something else.
Yeah. I notice how much better I do when I stop worrying whether I'm doing good enough. It's not like other stuff. Good parenting requires you to just calm the fuck down, you know?
Post a Comment