Things My Father Never Said
It’s been said that my mind works slightly off kilter. That my mind has a mind of its own. That stuff comes to my mind that seldom comes to mind for most minds. Maybe that’s true, maybe it’s not. One thing’s for sure, when researching a story, I often find myself down a rabbit hole or two that begets at least one or two more stories. Such was the case when writing “Are We There Yet – Part 2?”
Incidentally, according to Wikipedia (which in itself conjures up another story), down a rabbit hole “is an English-language idiom or trope which refers to getting deep into something, or ending up somewhere strange.” It’s been stated more than once, that I end up somewhere strange on a regular basis. Maybe that’s true, maybe it’s not.
What came to mind when writing “Are We There Yet – Part 2?” was playing the Uncle Wiggily game in the late 50s/early 60s with my sister and brother. I cannot recall whatever happened to that game, but it and Monopoly are the only board games I can recall us three playing on a regular basis. Usually unsupervised, usually ending in a brawl, usually someone yelling: “I’m gonna tell mom.”
Anyway, the rabbit hole journey began when I researched the creator of Uncle Wiggily and the name of Uncle Wiggily’s friends. Tragically, the home life (at least in later years) of the author and his wife was not as idyllic as the happy children’s stories they wrote. The behind-the-curtain look into the lives of Howard and Lilian Garis was chronicled by their granddaughter, Leslie Garis, in a memoir entitled “House of Happy Endings.”
As for me, the bursting of that facade will have to wait for another day. Sometimes the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth can be a hard pill to swallow. Sometimes the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth requires the right time and the right place. And now and here is not the right time or the right place.
As a side note: It should go without saying, most, if not all of us, live two lives. There is the public life and there is the behind-the-curtain life When mom and dad divorced, some of their close friends admitted that they suspected something while others said that they had no idea.
Digging a bit deeper down that darn rabbit hole I must have happened upon a rock as my path took one of those turns that my mind is famous for taking. Inexplicably, Jeff Daniels came to mind. I know, it’s weird! I cannot explain it – you just gotta go with it – trusting that somehow in the end it will all make sense.
First and foremost, Jeff Daniels is an incredibly versatile actor whose stage, film, and television career spans over five decades. Recently, while watching “cat” videos, I discovered that he has also written over 450 original songs and has released six full length albums.
Admittedly, such a revelation should not have come as such a shock. We all have talents that often go unrecognized. (I am an amazing author of short stories but not a single publisher has come knocking on my door.) Talents for which sometimes even our closest friends and family members are unaware. The shock on Kelly Clarkson’s face when she discovered Jeff Daniel’s musical skills was truly a priceless moment.
As awed as I was by Jeff Daniels original song, “When My Fingers Find Your Strings,” the song that really tugs on my heart strings (pun intended) every time I watch it is, “The Good on the Bad Side of Town.”
As a lead-in to the song on the Grove Studios version, Jeff Daniels says that the song is about “all the things that my father said, or could have said, or probably did say at some point.” After watching the video a couple more times, I concluded that nope, those were not the things my father said to me. And once again the rabbit hole got a bit deeper, then took another turn. I knew that I probably shouldn't go there, but go there I did.
Yep, I searched Google for “things fathers tell their sons.” As stated above – I couldn’t resist. Now, to be fair to my father – fairer than he most surely deserves – without a doubt, a goo-gob of fathers fall woefully short in this fatherly duty. Regrettably, unfortunately, myself included – truly a growth opportunity – though I am running out of time.
My father’s Golden Rule was, “Do as I say, not as I do.” One I remember all too well – one he recited far too many times. Being a man of few words, my father was one who, moreover fatherly chats, led by example. The tricky part being, some examples were to be emulated while some examples were to be avoided. Often times figuring out which was which took but a second, occasionally a little more time and a little more maturing was needed.
One more scoop of the shovel and I left the rabbit hole behind. Once again I found myself face to face with the same conclusion that has stared me in the face over and over these past fifty plus years.
Yes it would have been nice to have had a nurturing father. A father that guided me over all of life’s potholes and speedbumps. A father that kept me on the straight and narrow. Ah, if only life worked that way. After all, a son is going to do what a son is going to do, no matter the fatherly advice. (Yes, I am speaking from experience here – experience as a son and as a father.)
But no matter how we learn life’s lessons – whether from our fathers or from others – whether by examples of what to do or examples of what not to do – we still know. We still know that we can choose acceptance or we can choose avoidance. We still know that we can choose to be a racist or we can choose to be tolerant. We still know the difference between right and wrong.
And we still know we cannot blame our father (or the dog) when we fail. We still know that the learning never ends. We still know that the right path is not always the easy path. And we still know that we will never be perfect.
In the end, I hope that others will say that the life that I lived was one to be proud of far moreover one to be ashamed of. (And it would really be cool if they said, "Wow, what a mind.")