Mistakes
Aren’t things supposed to get better from one generation to another? Aren’t people supposed to ever learn? Or maybe it’s another thing altogether: maybe by repeating the mistakes of the past we learn to accept the limits of our predecessors and acknowledge their humanity, and as a result, we're able to forgive ourselves the inevitable repeated mistakes.
My father liked science experiments, so we had to like science experiments. A former meteorologist in the military, he liked to discuss cloud shapes. He liked politics, so we had to talk about politics. He liked to talk about his family history, so we had to memorize names. And in all of these things and in countless others, I’d failed him.
His disappointed face is something I always carry with me. Always the same routine. A sigh, his head down, an angry expression, and the ultimate blow: “Why do you hate your father?”
“I don’t hate you,” I used to say.
“Yes, you do. Otherwise you would do what I told you to do.”
I got used to that after a while, learning that this phrase meant the end of me having to do something I hated doing. Hearing him tell me I hated him meant I no longer had to know the difference between a Cumulonimbus and a Cumulus, I didn’t have to role-play as a journalist interviewing his favorite politician, and I didn’t have to learn about all the relatives who died in the Holocaust. That “Why do you hate your father” meant one thing: I was free.
But there was also pain associated with this sentence, and many times I’d tried to argue and explain that, well, there were things I’d rather do than be his lab-partner; that I was just a kid, and who cares about cloud-classifications when you can look at clouds for hours and find animals and monsters? And that, again, I didn’t hate him.
So why am I writing this now? Because the other day the new guy was having a good time with his mother—feeding, and playing, and smiling—and then she passed him to me when she went to take a shower. Now, as soon as I took him and started singing my favorite childhood song, his expression changed to suspicion, which soon turned to sadness. Soon, he was crying with the most painful, offended expression on his face. And I looked at him cry and thought about how happy he was with his mother just a few minutes earlier, and how come I couldn’t make him happy even though I sang him a beautiful song, and then I said, “Why do you hate your father?”
21 comments:
It's interesting what we pick up from out parents, even though we may not mean to.
My grandfather was the one in my family obsessed with family history -- insisted that we kids know why certain towns in his home country had certain names (after long-gone relatives).
Write a book. I will be the first to buy it. Then, I will buy it for all my friends. Not the most eloquent comment I have ever left on your blog, but I just love reading what you write.
Fatherhood does have a way of putting things in perspective.
I stole the first paragraph for my tumblelog. It was short enough I figured I could do it under fair use.
When's the book of aphorisms going to appear? :)
I've made every effort to NOT be like my parents in raising my son. Yet it invariably comes out. The trick is to be conscious of it and then evaluate whether it was a good thing or not. I don't have good childhood memories, but one thing I always did with my mom was bake and my son now bakes with me.
Ah yes, we are prone to repeat, aren't we? My Phrase is, "So Help me God," which means, you better run!
I hated so help me God as a kid. It was serious. It was anger and it might lead to violence. Now, I don't hit like my Mom did, but they know...
HomeandHearth, I mean, I completely understand where my father was coming from. It's not simply attempting to give his own existence meaning by tracing his heritage; it's also a way to respect all the relatives who died in the Holocaust. And maybe your grandfather thought the fact that towns were named after his relatives made his life meaningful, but maybe he also hoped you will also feel more proud in your heritage, and maybe he thought it was a way for him to relate to you, you know? But with all of the adults' good intentions, children just don't care about stuff like that. Maybe in a few years, though, I'll put Liam on my knees and tell him all about his relatives. Don't blame me for that. Or maybe I'll relate to him on his terms--we'll watch Dora the Explorer and learn Spanish together.
Sarah, thank you for saying that. It means everything to me.
Mark, thanks. I'm honored. And you know you can steal the whole blog if you want to.
Enemy, I had some amazing childhood memories with my father but there are some parenting skills he had that if I end up emulating, I'd better give this child to an adoption agency. Still, I'd suffer through an entire childhood of bullshit with him again and again if I knew I could also experience the good memories I had with him. Maybe that's all a parent can hope for.
Aimeepalooza, I know... It's easy for me to say now that I will never show my kids any sign of anger. And obviously I will never hit them. There was a lot of anger from my dad, and I will never knowingly submit my kids to that. But is it really possible? Still, from the little I get to see my sister with her kids, I've never seen her showing anger toward them. So help us God, all we can do is our best.
Aww :) I think you know you can learn from others mistakes, especially because you will have your son's understanding, as you were in that exact position. Besides, it was a song, and maybe you just startled him :)
Great post.
I think in our childhood we believe that our parents received a copy of the 'Parenting Handbook' when we were born and just couldn't be bothered to follow it.
When we become parents ourselves we begin to understand that is never existed in the first place.
I'm with Sarah. That's a great idea.
My dad was in Viet Nam during my early years, then he died when I was 9. My step-dad had a difficult time being a father to two teenage boys. (We get along great now.)
So, I've never really had a good father figure.
My daughter and I have a special connection, but my son treats me like I'm some crazy uncle. Our relationship ebbs and flows. Can't wait for him to get through puberty. I think we'll be closer when he's older too.
Many years ago my husband said to me, "Sometimes you open your mouth and your mother's voice comes out". He didn't say it in anger; it was just an observation. It was a startling one, though. Since that day, I've often heard the same thing myself, and oddly it's never when I'm at my best. My mother has many admirable qualities, but somehow it's never those aspects that slip through my lips...it's as if the very things we were most likely to have sworn we'd never are the ones most deeply ingrained.
Maybe you need to work on your song selection. Right now I belt out "No One," by Alicia Keys. There's a call-and-answer part toward the end that makes for participation on the part of Liam.
I love that your blog has evolved--it is all about the child. As a parent, I know exactly what that is like.
durante vita
Rache, so... I know now that I should relate to him on his own terms, but what if he grows up liking Barney more than Cookie Monster? What if he thinks Harold and the Purple Crayon is boring compared to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? What if his favorite show is American Gladiators and the only way we can bond is if I take him to a wrestling match? Although... We can find common ground: monster trucks!
Miladysa, I know, but still, I should have tried harder to avoid doing what I hated more than anything as a child. Well, not more than anything. As long as I don't raise my voice in anger. At least until he's eighteen. Anything goes after that.
Ajooja, thanks. One day I will. This blog was initially intended to accompany a fiction book I never wrote. But I will write and I will finish it, one day. I think my worst puberty year was when I was fifteen. I felt old enough to know right from wrong and knowledgeable enough to have a conversation about "issues," but everyone else still treated me like a child. A year later people treated me better. And I had a driver's license and a girlfriend. And my father was no longer a representative of a society I resented. Good luck.
RockStories, that's funny, in a sad-but-funny kind of way. If I could take the good and the bad from him, then I won't do so horribly bad. Yes, there was guilt and anger but there was also soccer and endless hours of sitting (and standing) on his shoulders. As long as I can do that I won't be the worst father. And Liam, if you read this many years from now, I know you didn't hate me. Sorry I said that.
Durante, you think that little guy can take over so quickly? This blog is now and always will be about me!!! ME!!!
And meanwhile he practices a type of call-and-answer with his mother: he pees on the bed and she answers by cleaning the sheet.
Nice post. There's no escaping a parent's influence, though. The older you get, the more you see how similarly you turned out.
Oh there is so much I've got to say... my dad and I don't have a healthy relationship... but I think I'll keep it for another day.
Cube, sad, isn't it? No disrespect to my dad, but I was hoping to have some more free will, you know?
SJ, today was my father's birthday. I called and left a message. My mom called and said he was out and she will let him know I called to wish him a happy birthday. Someone called from my parents' phone a couple of hours later and I missed the call. If it was him, he didn't leave a message. And I didn't call to find out. Me and him are so much alike--we're both so socially awkward that we can't even get through a birthday-wish call without everyone around us feeling uncomfortable. Poor Liam.
I find a lot of my dad's words coming out of my mouth, especially those that I HATED as a child! And I went through a short time of thinking I would never make the same mistakes MY parents made by golly.
But then one day it occurred to me that if I was going to make a bunch of mistakes ANYWAY, some of them may was well be the very same mistakes *my* parents made. After all, why bumble through with NEW mistakes when the old favorites are there for the taking? I especially like to pull out "Tell me again if it still hurts in a week" every so often.
I do like to think though, that I could have learned from some of their mistakes and actually improved a thing or two for the next generation. And I do think my parents did a better job parenting than their parents did before them. I think some things get better only slowly, by generation and really I think it takes two full generations for certain types of change...but I'm off track and what I really wanted to say was I love the picture!!!!!
Monster Trucks: Possibly the only thing more American than football.
Jill, thanks. When you put it that way, I think you're right: My parents did do a better job than their parents. That makes me feel better. And you know, I remember whenever I got hurt and my parents looked concerned I cried even more just to justify their concern. But if they tried to laugh it off I cried because it offended me. I think you're always wrong as a parent.
Woozie, never been, but it looks like fun. I just need an excuse. Finally, I can see monster trucks and Disney movies.
Thus the cycle of things continues. Or does it? Still time to turn all that around but I'll tell you this, the cycle is one of the reasons why I can't and won't be a father. It would be cruel and barbaric. Best to end it with me.
BTW I was only speaking about my cycle of madness toward the end and not saying you were dommed. You are going to be an outstanding father. Yes indeed.
Ricardo, I see your point. I knew someone who had a vasectomy because he didn't want to end up like his father. At the time I thought it was sad. Seems so... final. But I understand your point.
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