It wasn’t too long ago that my Father and I had that “Who’s the Top Dog?” thang going for a hot minute — when I finally opened up with both barrels and asked him to give me the name of anyone (save ol’ Dr. Broderick) – who had accomplished more than I had in their lifetime. I have naturally asked my mother to come up with a similar entity – because she and I have had this conversation more-than-once: as she believes that you can motivate people by comparing them to other, successful people.
The key, of course, is how one measures success. I remember becoming furious with oldest son Nick some years back when he told me that I had no idea how difficult grad school was and that I should cut him some slack. I replied that I put myself through grad school (2 Masters’ degrees and a double Ph.D. [I guess U could call the second Ph.D. a ‘terminal’ one]) while working 4 jobs (yes, 4 jobs): I taught Freshman Composition at USC; I worked as an SAT tutor for a Korean entrepreneur; I had my own tutoring business; and, the California State Teachers Retirement System just reminded me that I also subbed for the LAUSD during those years. I also taught at Pepperdine, Malibu and worked for the Carson Outreach Program during those years…so perhaps I may have even had 5 jobs going. I also reminded Nick that when I was his age, I was working 3 jobs, trying to parent him and attempting to be married to his mother. I was actually attempting to be married to Wife #2 as well – during those grad school years. And now I’m remembering swimming and working my way through the undergrad years while double majoring and getting a teaching credential in four years.
So I really have no sympathy for people who say they have “so much on their plate.” I have always endeavored to give whatever I was involved in my best shot.
I guess I quoted ol’ Walt Whitman for this essay because I’m feeling down on myself. Brother Paul has been asking me how a personage (such as myself) – who specialized in marriage, family and parenting –could be such a shitty parent? Hell! The property manager of a place I rented 10 months ago e-mailed me to complain that Son Tyler was terrorizing the place. So I told Brother Paul exactly what I told Afsan last night: I don’t recall being put on this planet to be a hand servant to children – or anyone else for- that-matter! Hell! I should have told the property manager that as long as my son isn’t buy drugs from her son – that there’s not much for him to do there – except harass the two, convicted child molesters who also live there.
But it’s quite hard to celebrate yourself when elements of your world continue to pull you down into the muck-and-mire of the banal and mundane doggy world that we have constructed around us. That’s why folks like Einstein, and Robert Frost, and Karl Marx stayed the hell away from their families – so they could think great thoughts in the absence of changing diapers.
Are we at Childhood’s End? Are the Overlords getting ready to park above us? (This was my favorite Arthur C. Clarke book and I was happy to learn that it was his personal favorite as well.) Or, is some sort of bizarre evolution of our species going on that my sons are at the forefront of (I did try to raise them without the limitations that many of the rest-of-us grow up with)?
I’m not sure I know. But what I do know – is that I have done alotta shit in my relatively short time on the planet, and, that I’m not yet finished! HG and I still have to find that ultimate, healing sound!! And I still have so much left to read. So, as I told my father (and perhaps a few others): You have never met-my-like – and I wonder if you ever will…
P.S.
Welcome to new (Veronica) and old (Anthony) friends who have found me here in cyber space.