Twenty years ago, lacking proper male role models in life I decided to research, define, then build my own internal standard of masculinity and manhood. As Neitzsche said and The Oatmeal comicfied, “When one has not had a good father, one must create one.” It was a long and sometimes painful process, but I look forward to being a father (in a year or two) I wouldn't change a thing.
Between my father’s
alcoholism and stories he told about the cruelty of his father, my
grandfather, I suspect dad knew he was falling short as a father. I also suspect dad was tortured knowing that he didn't know the hell he was doing and felt powerless
to change. He was trying to
reinvent fatherhood, trying to reinvent masculinity, trying not to pass down the sins of his father.
I’ll tell you a secret –
most adults don’t know what the hell they are doing. We make it up as we along. You should be suspicious if someone says otherwise.
But, dad did change, he was
not his father. Dad suffered far more abuse and humiliation at his father's hands than I suffered at his, and I am grateful.
Looking back, I see my father
wanted to break the cycle of addiction and abuse that was our family legacy. He
sensed that fully breaking the cycle would fall on my shoulders but couldn't imagine what that would look like.
As a child, I subconsciously sensed his desire to break the cycle. As an adult, as a man, I've embraced this value, then
execute its purpose with fervor and dedication.
When I left home at 17, I
vowed to “break the cycle” no matter the cost. Then, when I was 19, after being
estranged from him for two years, dad died of cancer. He was 48.
I
visited him on his deathbed and saw his soul tiredness. Three wives, eight children,
working class, veteran, PTSD, alcoholic. The IV's and respirator desperately tried to reconstitute this shriveled version of my father, the one who was eight feet tall and powered by diesel. He told me he was proud of me. It
released me.
It’s easy to look back 20
years and see all this.
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A beer and a shot in your honor. 20 years gone. RIP. |
As it turns out, dad did me a
favor by dying. He left a blank, a chunk of clay, a golem - something to be formed carefully with humility.
It’s so much easier to have a conversation, to gain closure, to reformat your life and expectations,
when you’re talking to a dead person. You get to build a conversation and
relationship out of your own agenda and goals, your own ideals and dreams. The
standard resistance and conflict created through opposing emotional needs and
absences no longer exists when you talk to a ghost.
I still dream of him,
although less frequently now.
So, after dad died I spent
the next 10 years crafting my definition of a man and father. It became an all-consuming
quest. I was determinate to redefine what a man and a father should be, then adopt
those qualities into my life.
Being the English nerd I am
(this was pre-bachelor's degree, snowbum days), I first turned to literature to define a
true man.
I read Tim O’Brien’s “TheThings They Carried” to get insight into dad’s Vietnam experience. Then, Robert
Bly’s “Iron John” for an alternative perspective on male roles and identity. Next,
came Kerouac’s “On The Road” and Tom Robbins’ “Still Life with Woodpecker” setting
my soul free. Edward Abby brought grit and moral fortitude with “Desert
Solitaire” and “Monkey Wrench Gang”. Thich Nhat Hanh gave me
spiritual identity and purpose.
These men and authors made
their own code, blazed their own trails, rocked the fucking boat. Rocking the
boat was who dad was at the core but couldn’t fully achieve because his father had
hobbled his soul, then Uncle Sam drained his life-force.
During my quest, I also
realized that one needs real world examples. So, I cultivated friendships
with people who had qualities I admired and wanted to emulate in my life - kindness,
moral fortitude, loyalty and an understanding that the rough paths are the most
rewarding. Even though we were all close in age, I admired and studied these men, incorporating their positive
characteristics into my definition and image of a proper man.
We were all young and
reckless, but without these friends, without their stalwart personalities and
support, I wouldn’t be the man I am today.
So, I’d like to thank Jay,
Gunther, George, Dan, Bill, Mike and Damon. When all the older men were too scared to act like mentors, unable to admit they didn't know what they were doing and were making it up as they went, we figured it out together.
You guys were my tribe and it takes a tribe to build a man. As much as American culture wants to celebrate the mavericks, the hero, the individual it's all bullshit. You can't make a samurai without a sensei or a chief without a tribe.
You also weren’t afraid to tell me when I was out of line, which is probably most important. Without your influence I wouldn’t be the man I am today.
To all the men and fathers out there -
We don't have to reinvent masculinity and fatherhood. We just need just build on our father's goodness and pass it on.
You guys were my tribe and it takes a tribe to build a man. As much as American culture wants to celebrate the mavericks, the hero, the individual it's all bullshit. You can't make a samurai without a sensei or a chief without a tribe.
You also weren’t afraid to tell me when I was out of line, which is probably most important. Without your influence I wouldn’t be the man I am today.
To all the men and fathers out there -
We don't have to reinvent masculinity and fatherhood. We just need just build on our father's goodness and pass it on.
Thanks for this beautiful post.
ReplyDeleteI can relate to your suffering. My father died this year. I got a call on Christmas morning when he passed. I hadn't spoken to him in 10-years.
Some relationships are frayed yet repairable, but death is the ultimate leveler. For me, I was stuck with what we had, which was naught.
I applaud your courage and your honesty. Your a brave man, Aaron.
Not only a beautiful writer, you're a successful man, a good husband and a decent human being, which is the first step towards being a great dad.
Keep up the good work and keep the essays coming!
Best wishes,
Brian