Father-sons

Father-son relationships are a popular subject throughout history. The relationship is complicated, emotional, and sometimes, destructive. One of the most famous examples comes from Greek mythology with the story of Oedipus and his father Laius. Oedipus unknowingly kills his father and later marries his mother, fulfilling a prophecy. This mythic story illustrates the complex nature of the father-son relationship, where love, betrayal, and tragedy can all coexist. In Arthur Miller's play Death of a Salesman, the relationship between Willy Loman and his son Biff is fraught with tension and disappointment. Willy has high expectations for his son, but Biff fails to live up to them, leading to a fractured relationship between the two. In Cormac McCarthy's novel The Road, a father and son navigate a post-apocalyptic world together, forming a bond that is both strong and fragile. The father's love for his son is tested by the harsh realities of their environment, and their relationship is a powerful exploration of the depths of paternal love. The portrayal of the father-son relationship is also prominent in popular television shows. In the hit series Breaking Bad, the relationship between Walter White and his son Walter Jr. is strained by Walter's secret life as a drug dealer. In The Sopranos, the relationship between Tony Soprano and his son AJ is complicated by Tony's involvement in organized crime. Both of these shows illustrate the ways in which a father's actions can impact his relationship with his son. The implications of a bad father and son relationship can be far-reaching and damaging. A strained relationship can lead to feelings of abandonment, rejection, and resentment in the son. It can also affect the son's ability to form healthy relationships with others, and impact his self-esteem and sense of identity. A bad father-son relationship can also have an impact on future generations, perpetuating the cycle of dysfunctional relationships.

What do I know?

I loved television shows like Leave it to Beaver where the father figure loomed large and provided guidance to the children without any abuse. There is an abundance of writing about father and son relationships - good and bad. One example of a quote about father and son relationships that incorporates literary allusions is the poem "Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden: Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking. When the rooms were warm, he’d call, and slowly I would rise and dress, fearing the chronic angers of that house, Speaking indifferently to him, who had driven out the cold and polished my good shoes as well. What did I know, what did I know of love’s austere and lonely offices? It explores the complex relationship between a father and son. On the one hand, the father is portrayed as a hardworking provider who sacrifices his own comfort to take care of the family. Conversely, the son is depicted as distant and unappreciative, unable to fully understand or express himself. My favorite line is "love's austere and lonely offices" where a father's love (or any parent) is seen as a duty or a job and often not fully appreciated. My father chose to ignore the duties of his job most of the time, but he showed up just enough to keep my hopes up. He never got up early on Sundays as the poem says, he was usually partying into the wee hours of the morning. I try or have tried to put myself in his shoes as the poem says "What did I know, what did I know" as I never really knew what made him tick or what dreams were forfeited for the family before he forfeited the family.

I plead the fifth

Middle school, the seventh grade to be exact, is where I learned my father had little authority beyond me (even that was short lived). Fourth period music class was the scene of the showdown between myself and Mr. Wilson. Yes, the same Mr. Wilson that played Santa Claus in the local television ads and numerous plays. He actually did look like Santa Clause from his white hair and beard down to his rotund stature. I always wanted to ask why Santa never seemed to visit our mobile home park. The assignment was simple, listen to Beethoven's 5th Symphony, no really listen (as in more than once) and learn more about it and Beethoven - it was laid out in our textbook. Like any good seventh grader, I had an attitude. I explained the assignment (mostly complaining) to dad as we ate pizza and watched a horror flick. I said the assignment was stupid and dad readily agreed. Furthermore, he told me to not do it if I did not feel like it. He posed the rhetorical question - why should we do things we don't want to? I smiled as the discussion ended, looking at dad like he was a genius. It was all so simple, just refuse to do it. I closed the music book and forgot all about it, proud of myself and the solution. Fast forward to fourth period on Monday and me proudly announcing the results of my conversation with Dad to Mr. Wilson and the class. An uncomfortable discussion in the hallway with the assistant principal followed as my classmates watched in awe. It is to my credit that I quickly realized the error of my ways and learned the hard lesson that Dad had no power - I had to be careful listening to him. I retreated with Mr. Wilson, licked my wounds and worked hard to complete the assignment that night. It was submitted the following day with little fanfare and a smugness from Mr. Wilson that I never forgot. He gave me an A for the work before bumping it down to a B for the commotion and being a day late. I never told Dad about the events at school. It was another lesson that he never asked. Likewise, I never told Mom as it would have provided more ammunition against him when he picked me up every other weekend.

Connections

In the end, the stranger that knocked me down also helped to reinforce my own core beliefs which includes: Empathize with others to walk in their shoes and know something of their experience Best laid plans never go as laid out, It is okay to not be okay and health is fragile. Live life to the fullest as you never know what tomorrow brings The final point needs repeating - If you put something off to tomorrow then it may never happen, like when/if you are laid up with a virus. I realize these are all cliches and my ideas continue to form (and are not unique), but my biggest ah-ha moment (which is a repeat event in my life) is the importance of connections. The connection with my partner had been frayed for some time, but it was not dead and the illness provided the time to repair, remembering why we have put up with each other for so many years. However, connections with others is important as well to live a good life and my connecting with a group of friends at a user group meeting led to an illness. And, my strong connection to my work (both day job and side gigs) strained my connection at home, so never forget to maintain balance and set priorities while maintaining connections. Proverbs 27:17 proclaims: “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another”

Empathy

In the end, I had a terrible flu or maybe it really was covid as my doctor kept saying tests could not be trusted (then why have them?). The fever took me to the brink of a hospital visit, but thankfully it never happened. It makes me think of a recent American President whose schtick was nothing could be trusted and question everything. Not the worst way to approach every day life, but it falls apart when the same person denigrates everything and acts like an idiots while thinking he is above the law, but I digress. Our health and bodies are fragile, they can be damaged or incapacitated at any moment with no warning. There is that moment of reflection when you try to remember when it may have happened, but it really serves no purpose. Illness teaches us many things, but in my situation it stressed the need to surrender and teaching it is okay to not be okay. Our society is goal or results driven that it can be hard to just retreat from the everyday, disengage and rest or heal. At some point, you have to surrender to it, accept the situation and do what is necessary to recuperate. In my case, I surrendered to my partner who, in turn, took care of me and restored, or repaired, our connection. I watched this beautiful person, I remembered this beautiful person that only I know to this extent. She took care of everything as I languished in fever-induced delusion and sleep. She was patient, thoughtful and loving, and it created another memory with this wonderful person. I called my illness, the stranger, as I did not see it coming, never knew it when it arrived and still have no definite terms to describe it. It will always remain a stranger to me other than the symptoms I experienced. She never became ill, so I am thankful that it appears I introduced no others to this stranger.

The Culprit

As my health improved and I got near to returning to “normal activities”, I or we wondered who invited the stranger into my body and when it occurred. The usual suspect is always the grandson who I always call a walking petri dish with his many hours spent at school. We had a bond, so there were lots of hugs and affection thus he was the number one suspect. However, the wife went another direction. This is no surprise as the grandson could do no wrong in her eyes. Like a game of Clue, she placed my best friend (outside of her) in the cross hairs as we had previously attended a local user group meeting following by group dinner and drinks - close your eyes and you can easily visualize the laughing and loud talking and aerosol droplets filling the space. We can all thank covid and the CDC for bringing aerosol and droplets into regular society. She smirked while pointing the finger at me and my friends. A couple texts and an email strengthened her case as a few of the attendees, including my friend, had been sick all week. The covid term had been volleyed around, but nobody ever secured a positive test - neither the at home version or the more painful doctor where the worlds longest q-tip is jammed up your nose until it hits the base of your brain. It makes my eyes water thinking of it. Meanwhile, the grandson has not missed a day of school and no outbreaks within his school building. In the end, the wife is right (as usual?) and I easily accept the verdict - something that would have erupted into a fight only a couple weeks ago. Actually, I am glad she is correct as I did not want the little one going through anything like I had experienced.

Realization

The stranger completely overtook me the next few days. The achiness and headache exploded across my body with a fever alternating extreme cold with tropical heat. The covers were piled high one minute and then on the floor. The only interesting aspect of the ordeal was the dreams - at one point I am walking the dark subway tunnels of New York and then playing with rats while a stranger chased us following by a gathering with other students pointing out some students had posted nothing all week (and I instantly know it is me) and how it is not fair and something needs to be done. It was a few days before the fever “broke” which led to the coughing. The sleep was something to behold since I am a well-known insomniac. I kept wondering how people lived like this, how could anybody sleep so much, but then my body reminded me of the how and why. I had a lot of time commitments as well as work deliverables, so it was a terrible time to be ill. Also, I never got sick, so it was a surprise for everybody. I wondered if people really believed I was sick, but I actually did see a doctor and got a note if ever questioned. Just thinking of a “doctors note” made me laugh, it reminded me of missed school days when such items were a requirement and often greatly scrutinized. I missed many school days of which my mom knew nothing, I had stolen a note pad and mimiced her writing. I tried to push forward with the commitments of my day job, but all of the coughing on conference calls was too much. Also, the couple of times I turned on my camera during Zoom calls was met with gasps and genuine sympathy and pleas to go rest and return another day. Eventually, I relented and retreated to bed and long stretches of sleep. My side projects were pushed out with not much fuss and of course I was stripped of all duties at home. The time leading up to my struggles with the stranger (as I loved to call it, like “when do you think the stranger will be done with me?”) came at a time of mounting tensions at home. Like a cliche, we had grown apart with animosity and accusations leveled. The accustations were pointless but could not be ignored. Therapy had been initiated, but it was put on hold as well. The many days of care provided by my better half seemed to reconnect us - providing the ample opportunity to demonstrate love (and accept it), and it was (I hate to say this) heartwarming to see the concern on her face. After all, we are no spring chickens and many wonder when an illness is really an illness or just the beginning of the end (yeah, people can be morbid). She caressed my forehead with the cold rag when the fever would not relent. She brought me food and neceeary medications. There were long talks once I turned the corner, talks we would never have had if permitted to work and tackle other commitments. There was lots of talk of good times and some bad, the sparkle seemed to return to her eyes (it had never left mine). I shrugged off the reminder of how many times I had mumbled the words “I don’t need you” while realizing that was far from true.