Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts

Saturday, December 24, 2011

indonesian scrooge

what do you do when you realize for the second time in 4 months you need to break with convention and escape your responsibilities? the past few months have been difficult. i have been hanging in more or less one week at at time. but weeks ago i knew i needed to escape. i looked at flights to asia/oceania locations with the hope of mexican food and good beer. it took me three days to decide on my second choice, a process of whittling hope and fear down to action.

as an american in asia, i am constantly asked if i am going home for christmas. it's a strange question because i am not really sure where home is anymore. if home is where the heart is, my heart is spread over the world. i do not have a singular location to go where all the people i love will be sitting together as a unit of holiday joy. there are my american and european families, both of which i feel joining would be intrusion.

i have two groups who i love in KL. one is a mixed bag of non-christmas people; atheists, communists, muslims, sort-of-muslims, hindus and buddhists. there are a few christians mixed into this group, but walls limit the sharing of holidays. there is also a fully formed family group who will be celebrating praise and worship without me. this is an interesting ensemble that i enjoy being a member of; but i did what i have always done during holidays, pushed myself away from the table.

my parents allowed this to become a tradition of mine. i am not really sure why i am this way, but i am. when the holidays loom, i feel the need to back away. i love the christmas spirit, the trappings of the holiday, the food and buying presents for kids, but i feel very uncomfortable in the family setting. thinking about it, it's not being together that bothers me but the thought that i might not get to be with the family at the next holiday. echoes of divorce bounce in my head as i am visited by the ghost of holidays past. i love the memories, i cherish them, but i will never be invited to join in again.

if the ghosts of christmas past are haunting me, the ghost of christmas present has been a warm and loving soul. she and i discussed my separation, and agreed that i needed to get away. there is mass missed, dinner and singing to follow. there will be no tree to wake up to, there will be no stockings to stuff. my ghost of christmas present is allowing me to get away, to sit in a cafe serving bad coffee and pseudo-parisian pastries, to listen to spa-christmas fusion muzak and to write alone. having gained enlightenment about being holiday-solo, i am not upset by christmas present. but then ebenezer wasn't either until he realized family missed him; or was it their pity.

this leaves me with the ghost of christmas future. with birth parents gone, siblings 25 years separated and acquired family lost in agreement, i can not honestly imagine a future christmas like any of the past. i can imagine a time-share christmas, the exact thing that i have been avoiding for 4 years. having a tiny tree at home sounds good, but being away on the beach has become a bit of a tradition now also.

i realize that i am dangerously close to bringing my ghosts with me on my impaired holiday. in some ways, this year is a dry run, a phased approach of escape followed by reconnection. i honestly wish i were able to enjoy the holidays without the angst, but as i said i know this is who i am, and i appreciate that my parents, living and dead, my ghosts and my children understand that being here is not a way to say that i don't want to be there. i want to be there more than anything in the world.

the scared kid who cried the christmas eve he found out santa was a evil hoax, the young man who closed the door thinking of a camera, the husband horribly allergic to christmas cheer and the sun burned pirate are all looking forward to many happy holidays to come.

haunted duck will be served, god bless us all, every one.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

boy blue


i am ignoring the world and passing the time until mass. i have been trying to get in touch with how i feel all week. emotions have been flowing since the phone rang in the middle of the night to tell me my father had died. when i asked when the funeral was, my sister said they were waiting to know when i would be back. but i had decided two years ago that when the time came, i would not fly home. i should have warned my family, but when does that conversation come up. no one understands, and i have been asked to consider what i am doing; no one wants me to live with regrets.

my father had a heart attack and stroke two years ago. my mom has been nursing him towards recovery ever since. as i watched from far away, i could not remind her that they sent him home to die, not to recover. there was no recovery, he was bedridden, had lost most of his mobility and communication skills. earlier this year, persistant open wounds forced them amputate his legs. when i called home she would tell me how he had gotten up and moved around a bit, or that he was having a good day, but i have known the days were limited.

when i was in college, we would blow off campus during exam season and drive over to the ocean. classmates were in the library or studying in the dorms, but once i had studied i knew that what i needed was to get away from the enforced quiet time that others required. it was best for me to sit in the back seat of the car and drink a beer, listen to music and talk to my closest friends. i don't remember a single conversation, but i can still feel the closeness of the group driving through the night; far from the acceptable behavior of studying or sleeping.

at the end of my sophomore year we were driving to the beach in the middle of the night. i was thinking about the coming summer, i would go home for a few weeks and then off to parris island for my marine corp summer camp. i would not be spending the summer with my family, but i was already spending my school year away, so this seemed like the next step.

i had called home every week the first year of college; sunday at 7:30 on the dot. it was the time between sunday mass and the return to my studies. i would call home and let them know how i was doing, what was going on in my life. but early in my sophomore year i had made the call, and after talking for a few minutes a frustrated voice on the other end asked me, "why don't you call and tell us good news. it seems like there is always something wrong. can you not call until you have good news to tell us?" i got angry, and tried to debate the point, but they hung up. i stood in the phone box, staring at the receiver which i then slammed down, twice. the following week at 7:30 i wanted to call, but still angry i refused to edit my conversation. i wanted to share, but the sharing had stopped. i never called regularly again, and 27 years of drift has happened in between.

later that year, when i told my father i was joining the marine corp to fly helicopters, he asked me, "are you sure about this? you don't like anyone telling you what to do." when i think back on the tractor accident, and premature end of my military career, i realize in some ways he might have been right. i have learned to take and execute orders, but i have always needed to make my own choices.

on that drive to the beach we had ROCK 101 was playing. i was in a quiet mood and for the first time actually listened to harry chapin's "cats in the cradle". i knew the chorus, but the lyrics had always blurred by unnoticed. this time i listened to the story of a father and son's relationship over the years. it begins with the son asking for the fathers time, and ends with roles reversed. it was in this moment that i understood my childhood, but i also saw my future and realized how i was moving away.

when we got to the beach, i zipped into a sleeping bag on the sand. as i laid listening to the waves with my girlfriend i started to cry. she had no idea what had set me off, she might have thought it was exam stress, but i was sobbing over a broken childhood that i had no ability to fix. i might have gone into software because i like to build systems, or to fix those that are broken, but this one was out of my hands. my childhood may also drive my need to be in control, but in those moments i had no control. i didn't explain the emotions that night, but i have gone back to them over the years.

i cried two years ago when i thought my father was going to die, i haven't cried this week. i want to, but i can't seem to push the button. it feels wrong, i am not going to stand over the casket so why do i get to shed the tears from the safe emotional distance that i am keeping.

the words that have always haunted me are from the end of the song, when the father calls and asks to see the son who says he is too busy... i have never believed he was busy, work is not an issue, just a convenient excuse. the father ends the call and says:
as I hung up the phone it occurred to me
he'd grown up just like me
my boy was just like me

i am divorced, i live away from my kids, i do enjoy work. but i am not my father. my father would have gone to the funeral, even if he didn't want to. i am not perfect, and i never needed him to be. i am sad that he is gone, and that we never found enough time to spend together. but i loved my dad, and i know he loved me. we just never really understood each other, and that is how i want to be different, i want my kids to know the person i am inside.

this is not the end of the song, because i am the father now and my kids need me to call and make time to be there; so they can know me. i live half a world away, and have been home for e's birthday 5 years running; i wonder if he has noticed that. either way, i know i am no longer the son, i am now the father.

the song ends with:
and the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
little boy blue and the man on the moon
when you comin' home son?
i don't know when, but we'll get together then son
you know we'll have a good time then

goodbye dad, i love you.

i am sorry we didn't get together then.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

coping parent


i have a friend in the US who i need to have detailed conversations with occasionally. because most of these happen late in the day for me, and come with filler time before the real discussion begins, my randomness tends to shine through. a few weeks ago we had a side conversation that i keep thinking about. it revolves around personal freedom, fear and parenting styles, all subjects that are hard for me to skip over; or fail to ruminate on.

to set the stage a bit, my friend is almost the poster child for upper-middle class soccer mom. she is smart, professional and respected. she is also semi-asian, fully american and east coast preppy, but with an asian parent and a bit of the "tiger mom" drive you would expect from a type-A over-achiever. if you needed someone organized and detailed on your team, she would be the choice.

we were talking a few weeks ago and somehow i turned the conversation to backpacking in europe. i was thinking about taking the train from amsterdam, through belgium and into france with my kids, and she admitted she had done the "sleep on the train" blast of moving around europe for a summer while in college. she said she had done something like 14 countries in 31 days, and when asked if she had enjoyed it, the answer was a simple "oh yeah".

it was clear she enjoyed her time, and has stories that i am sure are worth hearing. i am also sure they are only told to those much closer, better to be boxed up with other college aged memories and kept safe from prying eyes. as i heard her telling the story i was confused, it seemed out of character, but i was hopeful that i was seeing a new hippie mom side. so i asked if she wanted her kids to do the same trip, and the answer was an immediate "no way".

i had images of spending time with the kids in europe. my older son breaking his should either doing one arm hand-stands outside a bar at 2 AM (i was in the hotel with the other kids), or falling down the stairs in the hotel at 3 AM when her finally came home. my younger son taking a sip of his "beverage" at midnight, right after leaving the belgium restaurant where his sister ate horse. or standing in de wallen area of amsterdam explaining the women in the windows while his brother was in the coffee shop. these are all memories from the first family trip to europe. our eurail adventure headed for the south of france, but adjusted to champagne when things didn't work out on the train.

we are currently planning this years vacation. we have been doing a international vote for the past month, we are looking at flights and considering hotel locations. the kids have had the choice of a paradise island of ozzie surfers and bomb warnings, a communist country with great coffee shops and beaches americans bleed on or a semi-indian island that recently ended a 26-year civil war. we also considered one of the popular hindu temples nestled in a buddhist country, but it didn't have the draw of the locations on the list. my kids have become very good travelers, with discerning tastes.

but back to my friend... what is she trying to protect her children from? my older son, while walking around europe with one arm in a sling, asked if he could do a semester in europe. he had the city and the degree selected. i had reason to believe the plan was semi-directed by the rasta-haired twenty-something waitress he was spending time with. but i honestly wish he had executed the plan, it would have been good for him. also, as i look back on my early adulthood, i wish i had taken time to go to europe and learn more about the world, its people and the options out there if you took the time.

as a parent coping with kids, watching them grow up and hoping they are ready to take on the world, i am very happy my kids can get on an airplane, transit in europe and make it safely to asia. they will leave the US with euros in their pockets, they know how to negotiate a european airport and they know how to enjoy an non-american breakfast. i know they have the ability to react to issues that come up, i know they are smart enough to stay safe and see danger where their naive peers might just rush into high speed traffic of the world. they are able to take trains, they have able to adjust to a situation, they have learned to walk up to a guard holding a machine gun and ask for the bathroom in multiple languages.

i am not worried that my kids would not be safe as they travel the world. my daughter goes to NYC for new years, my older son already has control of his life fully in his hands. they have been trained, they have been prepared. they have seen me make mistakes, they have heard "semi-cleansed" stories of other adventures. i am looking forward to them taking on the world directly, i just hope they will share the stories with me. it would be bad for me if they didn't share, but worse if they never took the trip in the first place.

the world is too big, too interesting and too much fun to not go out and enjoy it. years ago i took the older kids to see "eurotrip", i laughed along with them and wished i had adventures like that when i was that age. i was too busy growing up. here is to hoping they take the time and safely enjoy themselves as they travel the world.

they are ready, and i can cope with it when they travel alone. for now, i am looking forward to us traveling together.


Saturday, May 14, 2011

shamelessly moody

i spent last night watching two different dvd series. as i tossed and turned later, i realized there were similarities between the two shows. both follow non-typical american fathers. they are irish-americans from the east-coast, they are both single-ish and have children who are forced to see them for who they are; the virtues and flaws they have as men and fathers. neither of these guys are going to win a parenting award, they would not even make the nomination phase.

in "californication", hank moody, a new yorker living in venice beach, is a writer suffering from success. he has terminal writers block caused by the movie "crazy little thing called love" a script based on his book, the less feel good "god hates us all". he uses his gifts of wit and connection to move through life with a focus on staying within the moment. never taking the long view, he allows himself to indulge in nearly any random offer that presents itself. hank has two women in his life who matter deeply to him, his teenage daughter becca and his estranged not-a-wife karen. they are the only people he loves fully, but who are not quite enough of a conscience for him to suppress his libertarian naughtiness.

in "shameless", frank galagher lives in deeply blue collar south-side chicago, with his 6 children. rather, he lives among them, because he is rarely there to help them in any way. he is a raging drunk, not in the hip but sad moody manner of doing something inappropriate at a party, but in the painfully pathetic come home after days of absence smelling of vomit and bleeding from a broken nose with no memory of how he got that way. frank is not getting through life on his charm, more like a complete disregard for obligation matched to a practiced belief that the safety net of the liberal agenda is a dodge built specifically for him to never actually work.

when you first meet these guys you are shocked that anyone can live their lives like this. both are embarrassments to themselves, and more importantly to their loved ones. they careen through life, one alcohol infused crisis to the next, disappointing everyone with their unacceptable behavior. they are difficult to watch, but they are impossible to stop watching, because as the proverbial car-wreck happening right in front of you, you just can't stop the morbid fascination demanding to know what will happen next.

but these are the first impressions. as you continue to watch, you begin to see a depth to these men you missed while overcoming your immediate revulsion. you notice that as events unfold those closest to them continue to allow them to be close. there is a distance that people take out of self preservation, but they do not force them out of their lives. they might take space when the craziness gets too intense, but they never close the door fully. this may be seen as codependence by some, but watch closely and you may see it as true love and a respect for family bonds.

you also notice that both moody and frank are central in the lives of their children. as you watch them, you realize they love their children. they are too self-absorbed to be there as full-time care givers, or even to be sober at the appropriate times, but you can see that they realize they need to be better than they are. the angst they express in being less than the perfect father is painful to watch, but is also hopeful because it appears to be the single motivation capable of pulling them back from the brink of self-destruction.

the thing that makes these losers good men, is being self-aware that they are full of shit. neither of them makes excuses for their behavior, they know they habitually make bad choices, and seem to accept that given the same circumstances they would probably make them again. but rather than trying to cover that up, they admit to themselves and others that what they do is unacceptable. it's the elimination of hypocrisy, by admitting the truth to themselves and not hiding it that makes them role models in an anti-hero sort of way. they also say they are sorry to those they hurt, and when the ones you hurt most are your own saying sorry can be very hard.

the result of this is also that they do not make choices for others around them. the children of these men are smart, capable and ready to take on the world. moody and frank are also smart, but they allow their stupidity to get in the way. their children on the other hand are smart, smart enough to try to stay out of trouble. they have good reason for this, they have a "there but for the grace of god" image of what can happen to them if they are not careful. since they are in some ways parenting their parent, they do not have the luxury to allow themselves to go off the rails.

and this brings us back to the question of a parenting award. both of these guys are anything but the classic "father knows best" image of american life. no group of opinion givers would vote for them, because they are not acceptable role models. but that is based on first impressions. when you live with them you realized that having someone listen to you is better than being talked at, you know that having someone admit their faults better than hiding them, you recognize that you are capable of doing more because you needed to be able to. the moms in the PTA, or the case worker from DFCS, might not see it but parents who believe in their children, even if its because they see they are in no position to be judgmental, are hard to come by.

this is why the kids in these shows are so able. they do have good role models, just not ones that are socially acceptable. the best part of moody and frank's parenting is that they love their children and show them the best qualities an unreliable adult can; truth, honesty and compassion for others.

these men are not the narcissists others believe them to be, they are both fighting demons that only they know. but, when possible they keep the fight away from the children, even if that means they are absent. when they are with the kids you see great moments of parenting. parenting with self-realization, like:
Becca: Do you remember what you used to do for me when I couldn’t sleep?
Hank : Dose you with opiates?
Becca: No. Look at the ocean and count mermaids.
Hank : I did do that. I’m a better father than I thought.
these men might be embarrassments, but they are also better fathers than they thought.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

minimal shaving

one of the things i like about vacation is the ability to live exactly as you want. you can wear the clothes that feel good, wake when you want, and eat and drink whatever you want. but the thing i like the best is the ability get up and walk the beach immediately after rolling out of bed. throw on some shorts and start your day. it is the elimination of the daily routine that reminds you that you are on vacation. it is the freedom from the daily grind that tells you that you are free.

one of the core parts of my day is the daily shave. with the need to keep my agressive haircut in good form, i shave head and face every day. i do it everyday, a reminder to myself that i made a decision years ago, i changed things inside and out, things that may have only mattered to me. it all came with a central promise to myself, and everyday the process is a reminder. my routine is for me, no one is watching or telling me to do it. it may not matter to anyone; but it makes me happy so i keep it going it and remember.

but when i am on a trip, i tend to relax and delay my ritual until later in the day. i spend the day-time hours with stubble and then clean the day away with a shave and shower before dinner. there is something about being on the beach, holding a glass in your hand, and looking like hemingway's santiago that feels good in a different way. it also reminds me of my father, the man who taught me to shave, who when i see him now is rarely clean shaven. i look in the mirror and think about the old man, and the ritual that has changed over the years.

when i first began, my father brought me into the bathroom and gave me a soft brush and a cup for the shaving soap. he taught me how to wet my beard, apply the soap to my face and then to draw the razor over my skin. i was brought into the club, a clear sign of manhood and i felt as though i was taught the right way. something about wetting the brush and then swirling it against the soap in the cup just felt right. it was more thoughtful than pushing the button on a can. i started my adulthood by going old-school, feeling the brush on my skin before the cold razor.

i shaved like this all though high school. when college came, the brush was in my toiletry bag, but i also had a small can of cream. standing at the bank of sinks after showering, with a brush in my hand lost some of its appeal. i used a razor and shaving cream at the sink for the next 15 years. it was a standard practice, it lost the appeal of the original. it was now a chore that i needed to do. it might have felt good before a special event, but most days it was just a portion of the routine. until i moved my shaving into the shower.

i had read an article on shaving, the focus was that shaving cream was not important for anything more than to keep your skin wet for the razor. the article made it clear that water was the key element, soap or cream was an enabling technology. i decided to experiment with this by moving my shave under the shower head. the major upside was that shaving was now under the warm water spray, rather than standing at the sink during the winter. the reality that the sink remained clean with my new technique was an added marital benefit.

the next decade saw changes to the process. i went from shaving cream, to women's shaving cream i shared with my wife, to soap because it was there and my wife no longer was, to elimination of the soap all together for a razor and water only shave. this was the culmination of a transition the article had pointed to years ago. the legacy of my fathers teachings were hard to shake, but in the end simple was better.

when i had moved into the shower, i needed to bring a mirror with me, over the years that was dropped too; it became all about feeling my way to the clean shave. this was reinforced when i moved to asia and spent months shaving in the dark, no need for a mirror if the bathroom was dark anyway. those months were also without hot water, which i was told was normal for malaysia, but it was the line i could not cross. razor and hot water were the limits of my simplicity of the daily shave.

until this week, i have found a way to further simplify the package. my toiletry bag stays in my luggage, always ready to travel. before i left on holiday i checked the bag and found fresh razors ready to go. i had a nagging feeling i was missing something after my last trip, but checking made me feel better. until i reached my post travel-adventure shower and found the razors there, but the handle missing. i was without a key piece of shaving equipment, in a resort over an hour from the nearest city, no hope of finding a spare handle and no desire to go without shaving for 3 days.

so, i did what any former macgyver viewer would do; i found a way. my solution was pretty simple, i didn't have to break out the leatherman and duct-tape and attach the razor to a trimmed down toothbrush handle (i considered that and discarded the idea). but i now know that razor handles are not a requirement for a clean shave. in a pinch, you simply need to pinch the razor between your thumb and first two fingers. it takes a second to get the feel, but a clean, smooth shave is possible. again, simple is best.

i remember the old man every time i shave. i love that i was taught the right way to do it when i was young, but i also love that i have made this process my own over the years. slowly eliminating all the extras and getting to the bare requirements. i never set out to do this, but as the years pass you learn things. if you travel and take on new situations, you find what is important. you also find that you can control the time and place for yourself when you are relaxed and enjoying live.

what is better than a clean smooth shave? the ability to remember what got you here.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

crisis averted

i am sitting in my favorite KL coffee shop, eating a grilled blueberry muffin, drinking a very well made 4 shot cappuccino; with a little dollop of whipped cream; because the life is better that way. i am getting on a plane tomorrow to one of my favorite places in the world, a week long holiday that comes right when i need it; a break from the craziness at a time when the teams have direction and should not need me looking over their shoulders. life is clearly good, more so because my morning started with the elimination of a looming crisis.

the crisis would not have been carried in the news. it would not have been as devastating as the japanese tsunami, or as disruptive as the iceland volcano, but for me it is something i am glad is not happening this year. it could happen in the future and when it does i am going to need to roll with it and accept, but for now it is something on the back burner of fear.

living on the opposite side of the planet comes with issues. small things like buying a bottle of ibuprofen to help manage the stress headaches comes with worry of import inspectors. buying sneakers involves internet orders, assisted shipping and month long delivery schedules. these are small things that most americans do by dropping into a mall on the way to somewhere else. i am somewhere else, and dropping into the mall is not an option. planning and logistics have become second nature, which is not easy for a "code, test, debug -- repeat" engineer.

the crisis that was averted was the delivery much more important to me than ibuprofen. it is actually the drug that i really need more than any other, it's the one i hold my breath for all year. it comes with even more negotiation and stress than any other. normally the planning begins in march, but i know i have been avoiding the conversation. avoiding not because i didn't want to ensure success, but because i was afraid of failure.

the planning began a few weeks ago, but no details were exchanged. at that point, i found that i could get 2/3 of my order immediately, with the hope of the final portion before the end of the year. this was a new option, previously it was one delivery a year. i like the idea of the order being split, but there were more details that needed to be resolved.

i woke up yesterday morning and made three international calls. the first was to guy that had no dates he could confirm and was in a rush to move onto the next thing he was doing. he asked me to call back today, and confirm plans with his chief of operations. the second was not answered, this is the hardest connection to make, but only involved the second order so it was not crucial for me to resolve the issues i needed to discuss. the final call was not really about the logistics, it was more of a general touch base that evolved into a discussion of dates and timing.

and that is where the rub was. it looked as though we would be under deep time pressures this year. it was strongly possible that the delivery could take place but that i would need to ship back much sooner than i hoped. when you go to the effort to plan your year around getting something, you do not want to send it back as soon as it comes. the discussion of timing was not clear and i decided to wait a day before worrying about it. but, worry i did. my life is pretty much about anticipation of looming crisis, and this was just one more thing to try to breath my way through.

when i woke up this morning, i was thinking about my favorite drugs and if i could get them or not. i miss having them, i miss the thrill of experiencing them, the way they open me up and let me laugh. they are the thing i miss the most when i am here, and they are what makes me want to go back to the US more than anything else. i like asia, but asia does not have anything like this and i know i need to go back if i am going to have more of it than i have now.

one final call this morning. they are going to do an early shipping date, and the abrupt return i was worried about is not a requirement. so rather than the less than two weeks i thought i would have, i will actually have close to 5. as i heard this, i let out a huge sigh of relief. one more year will pass and again i will have my kids here in KL with me. the junkie desire i have been feeling build is going to be satisfied, i felt my stress headache melt away.

so i am here for today, i am going to a quiet island tomorrow, i have everything i need in life and the time to enjoy those things. i have a series of new logistics to work out, and i am sure there will be bumps along the way, but at this point i don't care at all. my kids are coming to spend time with me.

they are my biggest high of the year, and their time is best thing i could ask for.

Friday, November 19, 2010

backpacker parents

while i was in college, and after i graduated, i wanted to backpack in europe. but the reality of the situation was that that was for the rich kids and i needed to work to afford to stay in school. there was no eurail pass for me, i had no fort lauderdale or cancun during spring break, i went home and worked to help pay for the semester that was half over. graduation day came and i stayed at work to do a double shift rather than crossing the stage with my classmates. working double shifts all through college was the way i had afforded to get this far, it seemed like the right thing to now that i had 10 years of debt to pay off once i graduated.

i was asked about my previous travels this week. had i done the backpacking in europe? why do i travel with a backpack now, when i can afford to pay for the five star hotel? today the cost of the holiday is more time than money. i plan trips on weeks that have holidays embedded within them, the time away from the office is much more of a challenge than the cost of the trip. the desire to carry a backpack and stay in "local" accommodations rather than yet another hilton is why this is vacation, i need to get away from the business travel environment.

but i am not the standard backpacker. i seem to have done this backwards, i delayed the backpacking until my back actually hurts from carrying the bag. travel in my 20s was restrained by the desire to pay off the loans needed to fund the parts of education i could not cover with double shifts. travel in my 30s was restrained by commitments including not taking days away because they were non-billable. travel in my 40s, well this has almost become a survival act. the reaction to an always on lifestyle and the need to be anonymous.

as i have been considering this, i have noticed the number of backpackers who are all around me this week. there is a certain flavor to the type, they are dominantly white, educated, literate and in their mid to late 20s. there are some in their thirties, but the over 40 crowd is limited. many have long histories of travel, the longest i have heard was 18 months of travel over 4 continents, with another 8 months to go before landing back in new york for a wedding. how does someone take 26 months out of their life and travel the world? i am asking that hoping how to figure it out for myself more than as a rhetorical question. where is the funding coming from? is it too late for me to be adopted by these parents?

when my older son was 10 or so, he asked me about eurail and suggested we do it together. i thought this was a great idea, one i honestly would not have come up with myself. i looked at tickets, considered the route through europe and presented the plan to his mother. the conversation ended abruptly, the trip was never taken, an opportunity was lost, one i wish i could go back and reclaim. i wonder how life would have been different if we had taken this trip. how would i be different?

as i look at the backpackers around me, i see them in the future. i see the house, and the volvo. i see the business they are running and the clients they need to keep happy. i see the children they are raising. i wonder if their spouse will also be a backpacker, or if they will be someone who orders roomservice and has never worn the same shorts for a week or shared a room with semi-strangers in a hostel.

i wonder when they will tell the children the stories of their backpacking past. i was almost 20 when i found out my father had gone to work in the caribbean for over a year. he never really told me the story other to say he had a great time. that is a side of my father i never knew existed, and i am sorry i will never know him at that time. will these parents be different? will they have pictures, blogs and facebook friends who drop in and tell the kids the story of a crazy night in thialand that mom has never mentioned? or will those memories be quietly tucked away under the adulthood that mom and dad take on? will the kids be given lectures on safety as they are carpooled from soccer to dance? will dad remember cambodia when he considers snooping in his daughters diary?

i talked to my younger son on the drive to the airport this week. i told him i was going to the mountains and hoped to piss over the border. i could hear him smiling as he laughed and called out to his mother to tell her about my plans. i could hear her adult reply to my childish plan. that made me smile.

backpacking is the 21th century version of hippy-culture. it's about the freedom to not shave, not get up in the morning, not go to bed at night if you don't want to. it doesn't matter if you smell a bit, if you have a stupid idea that you carry out or if you drink a bit too much.

what matters is that you find the time somewhere in your life to take an overnight train into the mountains, to look over the border and to know if you do want to let go, you can take a picture and share it with your children as a part of who you really are.

we are our past, and if we are really lucky, we are also our long scruffy futures.

Monday, May 18, 2009

parent trap


my head seems to be hitting on a recurring theme.  it's so strange when that happens, you are having conversations across multiple days and people bring up a thread that overlaps with another from the day or week before.  over time the clothe forms and the pattern appears.  single threads interlock and you realize the shape and feel of the thought.  the conversations had no connection, the other persons themes have nothing to do with each other, but within my head i keep returning to the same pattern.

i collapsed into a chair yesterday, tired, happy and ready for a sip of grape to balance the steam i had just finished.  i had the smell of jasmine on my skin and image of a beautiful flower in my head.  i looked over and saw the smile of an old soul.  dark intelligent eyes were looking at me, they were connected to young body and a happy smile.  we struck up a conversation, my new friend was a bundle of contrasts, he is forward and shy, reminds me of my son and has an old name that means "gentle soul" or "smooth brow"; both of which appeared true.

as the conversation flowed, i was reminded of my childhood and the stress of parenting and parenting of parents.  i was reminded of my favorite mother's day movie the parent trap.  not the remake with lindsay lohan, the original with brian keith, maureen o'hara and hayley mills.  the first thought was of the grandfather played perfectly by charles ruggles, he leads the supporting cast by quietly commenting without commenting.  this is a skill my own distant grandfather chuck had mastered, but one i will need to keep trying to find.

i was reminded of one of my favorite scenes of the movie between the grandfather and the grand daughter who he has realized is not the person the rest of the house believes she is:

>>>>>>>>>>>>

Charles McKendrick: [Susan starts sniffing the coat he is wearing] My dear, what are you doing? 
Susan Evers: Making a memory. 
Charles McKendrick: Making a memory? 
Susan Evers: All my life, when I'm quite grown-up I will always remember my grandfather and how he smelled of 
[
smells his jacket again] tobacco and peppermint. 
Charles McKendrick: Smelled of tobacco and peppermint. [starts chuckling] Well, I'll tell you what. I take the peppermint for my indigestion and as for the tobacco [looks around to share the secret] to make your grandmother mad. 


>>>>>>>>>>>>

later, i was eating dinner with a friend who was talking about dating and trying to be the person that the right man would want to be with.  she has friends who believe that men want the flashy, sophisticated and pampered women they spend so much effort becoming.  my friend worries that the men she knows are focused on room service rather than backpacks and zip lines.  i asked when she watched the parent trap, did she like the mother who comfortably slipped into jeans or vicki the woman so clearly uncomfortable outside of designer fashion.  i know that during the camping trip i love as she is driven off by sisters, who bond over shared torment.

someone who wants the vickis of the world will get what they deserve.  the future will be one of high maintenance, shallow personality and the inability to cross a river to climb into a tree house and sweat in the afternoon heat while watching gibbons play in the jungle below.  it comes down to choosing what you want in a life.  do you want to go to a constructed resort or to have a genuine adventure?

this morning i read the thoughts of a friend who was talking about the themes of conflict and loss that we use to celebrate what should be the deepest love of our lives.  i had to smile, it is clear to me that there are smiles in the world and beyond, even when they come with sadness.  i again came back to the parent trap, which for me proves that the people in our lives can help us be happy by giving us space.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

Verbena 'Ever's Housekeeper': It's none of my nevermind. I don't say a word. 
Mitch Evers: [turning to leave; deadpan] I know, you never say a word to anyone. 


>>>>>>>>>>>>

being the child of divorce, and experiencing divorce as an adult, i watch the parent trap with a sense of recognition and hope.   i see two people who clearly remember why they liked each other in the first place.  they live on separate continents, and it works for them.  i don't believe the end where they get back together, but i do see that they will be friends.  rather than keeping the kids apart they will realize that the children are the priority, even if this means having to accept someone you could not accept in the past.

the trap keeps creeping into my head.  i want to watch these happy characters find themselves.  people seem to see the easy device of driving off the evil step mother as the theme of the movie.  that's not it at all for me.  it's getting to the place in life, like the grandfather, that you know when to keep quiet and allow those around you to make their own decisions and when to finally step in.  just as the grandfather does with his overbearing wife when he saids:

>>>>>>>>>>>>

Charles McKendrick: Louise, for once I'm putting my foot down. Now let them alone! 

>>>>>>>>>>>>

i wish i could go to a "best buy", but the local "black sails" video store just doesn't have old movies about families.  for now i am stuck with my memories.


Monday, January 26, 2009

zoey marley


i watched a movie last night that i expected to laugh and and walk away with a light feeling of a family comedy.  when selecting a movie with jennifer anostin and owen wilson you do not expect to learn a life lesson about yourself or to have it touch you below the surface.  had i read the small print on "marley & me", i might have seen the summary "a family learns important life lessons from their adorable, but naughty and neurotic dog".  i never went beyond the cover with a gorgeous lab puppy and the subtitle, "life and love with the worlds worst dog"

i should have known better.  i should have taken the time to read the full description and to have seen my reaction coming.  there has to be some grading system built so you don't stumble over a movie that will impact you from nowhere.  we have PG, PG-13 and R to help us protect our children from sex and violence in film.  where is the PD rating.  this would help us with both post-divorce and post-death cinema experiences that impact adults and children.

for full disclosure this movie simply carried too many parallels for me to get through it in one piece.  the movie is well written and surprisingly well acted, if the writers had not elected to use the life of a lab as the central metaphor for a families life, i would have been able to take this movie as the simple pleasure i had hoped for when placing it in the DVD player.  the fact that marley was a "clearance dog", and suffered from separation anxiety should have warned me to turn off the movie and go to bed early; it didn't and that is clearly my fault.

the movie and the dogs relationship with the family starts early in the lives of a couple, they choose to get a dog as they begin to build a family.  the dog is quickly understood to be one with issues, issues which are used as a foil by the couple to point out fractures in their relationship.  marley is always ready to jump into the husband's arms as the wife is pressed by the level of effort required to feed and care for the family.  there is a touching scene when jen demands that the dog be given away.  john asks if he will be given away also, because he is also trouble to take care of.  man and dog both end up staying; because they are each clearly loved; despite their issues. 

as i said, parallels were clear.  a family who lives in a house set back on a big lot, trees all around, two sons and a beautiful daughter.  husband and wife who are both professional and begin their relationship with all the hope and promise in the world.  the full american dream, three kids a beautiful home, a volvo and a mini-van in the driveway.  friends who time and space take away, but a family that stays together.  all of it witnessed by a neurotic lab...  

our lab was named zoey, she as taken-in very early in a relationship, she was just a neurotic as marley and was just as loved.  zoey was tragically taken from us in an accident.  she was pulled under the wheels of our SUV as wife and kids climbed our steep driveway.  the symbolism of our dog being killed as she chased after the retreating car has never been lost on me.  

a neurotic dog, whose primary fear was being left behind would obviously give chase; even at the risk of being crushed under large wheels.  accidents happen, including those that you can see long in advance, but seeing of the impressions of a crush injury can take your breath away years later.  the feelings of loss and pain can be resurrected by the ghosts of the past; or by similar images of different families.

marley lasted until the end.  he was buried in the front yard, in a hole hand-dug by the family; they all said goodbye together.  zoey is buried in the back yard, in a hole machine dug by a hired-tool; goodbyes where said privately.  marley was a real dog, whose life and death was inside a real family.  he might have been the world's worst dog, but he was one the family loved and kept as theirs forever.

the movie was formulaic, but it had a heart that touched my own.  next-time i will read the small-print before i pop the movie in, good and bad are sometimes just to close. 
   

Sunday, January 25, 2009

lowered expectations

i was talking to my ex-wife last night.  there was a moment years ago when she saw me doing something out of character and based on the strained position we were in, she asked me if i thought pretending to change would make a difference.  this came a year after i thought i had begun changing in significant ways.  the question was an accusation of lies which were not being told, and a confirmation that at that moment nothing would be enough change to matter.

to be fair, there were times in the past where i should have been happy and i was not.  i merged a cynical world view, an expectation of doom and a desire to control things which simply could not be controlled, into a poor-fit in our american family dynamic.  on one of our first dates she asked why i always expected something bad to happen.  she asked me to accept that trying to let good things happen would allow them to happen.  i took a deep breath and made a decision to try.  years later, much happiness had come from that decision.  i had just done a terrible job of saying thank you.

a few weeks ago i was sharing the sight of a famous landmark with someone who enjoyed it as much as i did.  she looked at me and told me the man in her life had taken in the same view and had been disappointed by it.  he did not think it was worth the praise it receives; it did not meet the expectations he had in pre-viewing.  i looked at her and smiled.  this was the second time i had seen it, and like the eiffel tower blinking at night, sunset on the ocean, pastel streaked sunrise from 40,000 feet or the birth of a child there was simply no way i could be disappointed.

we discussed why we enjoyed the view so much and why others would be disappointed.  it hit me that it wasn't the view, it was what someone brought into the view.  like reading a book you have read before and hearing a new message, like looking at a painting of the ocean crashing onto the beach and sensing the feelings of the men impressionisticly standing on the beach, the viewer is a key element to the interpretation of a moment.  you bring yourself into the act of enjoyment.  your "world view" matters as you view your world.

events which would have frustrated me years ago, moments when i would have been bored and distracted are now those that i miss the most.  i hate the fact that i didn't enjoy them while i could have.  i allowed myself to fast-forward through times that i now wish i could return to and slowly savor.  the big events are the times that people remember, but it's the small events that i have come to care the most about.

the difference then is that i find i now enjoy small things as much as large.  when this started i realized that the sound of a bird chirping, the bright taste of my morning caffeine jolt and warm feeling on sun on my arms had new found pleasure.  when you slow down and enjoy things that you used to take for granted, you begin to see that very few things can be taken for granted.  

i was watching a DVD last night and a small scene unfolded, as it ended i realized that three months ago i had stood on the exact spot the actors were in the scene.  i had been there and i had shared the moment with someone i could reach out to and share the joy of recognition.  this tiny scene meant something to me that i brought in myself.  something the production company never could have added.  i brought good and happy thoughts unrelated to the scene that was written.

i have changed.  i now have lower expectations, and the lower the expectations have become the more i have learned to enjoy the small things that happen around me.  even the things i don't like, i now try to find some way to enjoy.  just understanding that before the changes began i could have had a reaction or felt frustration, now i enjoy difficult moments with the zen appreciation of not allowing a negative response to replace the good-vibe.

pretending to change was never the plan.  the change happened much like time and pressure crytalizes carbon to diamond, and i have learned to enjoy the sparkle of the post-pressurized me.  i used to say, "expect the worst, enjoy the best".   as i look back, it's clear how that world view could impede a happy life.  but, that is no longer the way i look at the world.  the worst things that could happen did; and i am still standing.

i can now happily say, "enjoy what life brings you", to do it you need to see the diamonds in the rough.  

Sunday, September 07, 2008

bad santa

having grown up in an irish catholic family, seeing my father kneel and cross himself as me moved in a church, watching my grandmother say her prayers long after she had lost touch with her family and surroundings i understand what faith is. but also having a natural tendency to question, research, consider and analyze, i have become quite comfortable with the post-enlightenment modernism view of the world. gone are the acceptance of myths that bound society in the classical world. rather modernism replaced myth with an acceptance of the temporal and self-directed, but promising, future that people have when they work, learn and progress without classical ties which bind them to historical answers to questions of life, purpose and morality.

when i moved here i was shocked at the level of myth which is still believed. not only believed, but accepted apparently without being questioned. added to this is a level of connection to the family which is becoming uncommon outside of rural or possibly cult-like groups in the west. mature adults in asia have told me that they would not be allowed to do things like, get divorced, have a tattoo, emigrate for work or education, or even go on a weekend away because of the way their parents would feel about it. when asked how my mother felt about me moving half way around the world, her second child to do so, she said, “well, what can you do, he is going to do what he thinks is best, no matter what we say”. i smiled when i heard that, thinking my mother respected my ability to choose my life.

but i have questioned how malaysia keeps its people believing the myths, and not questioning the word or authority of their elders for so long. some adults do have lives their parents know nothing about, or may suspect but would never ask details about for fear of being told. many more than in the west simply will not act in ways which would upset their parents. they do it out of respect; and fear. they believe their parents are entitled to make decisions for them, and to be believed when they tell them what is right and wrong. this got me thinking about where this is lost in the western world.

how do our children learn to become independent of thought? how do they learn do become open and possibly vocal about their desires, when people here stay quiet and under the influence of the parents? i was thinking about my youngest son a few weeks ago, i was reflecting on his ability to manage up in his relationships with parents. this is not only me, but his mother and other parent-like replacements that are in his life. he and his siblings have learned to be read between the lines, and have a more active interaction with the adults around them.

when is the first time that our children begin to feel the ability to manage the relationships with the adults in their lives? i have decided it is the same time that they realize the adults are lying to them about things. for western children this comes during their early youth, just after entering school, when they learn from classmates that santa does not exist… the myth is broken, and the children see the conservative conspiracy that was put in place to help them continue to believe the myth. not only are the parents found to have lied to them, but grandparents, teachers, the media … almost all adults in their life are now brought into question. there is an understanding that adults lie, the same people who have taught them that lying is bad, are now found to be those lying about the things that mean the most to them.

the fact that santa is a pseudo-religious symbol, actually a saint in some but not all western countries, is not lost on the child either. this apparent crack in the façade of religion is later reinforced a few months later when the now questioning child calls the other pseudo-religious mythical holiday symbols into question… saint valentine and then the easter-bunny are the next myths to fall to this new ability to question and accept the falsity of myth. the three pseudo-religious symbols are all debunked by the child, who is quickly enlisted in the conspiracy and told they do not want to spoil it for the younger (or is it more naïve) children.

at least within the us, the remaining holidays are largely without myth. halloween, is a time for everyone to dress up, so yes it is built on deception (or extortion) but the children are let in on the secret early on and is not upset by this. although holloween could be seen as the distraction which helped to eliminate “all saints day”, which is the day after halloween, a day most american's completely ignore.

the turkey associated with thanksgiving is presented to the child crispy and ready to be eaten, so there is no lie there. other than the false fact that the pilgrims landed in pymouth… they actually landed and spent the summer months in truro. yes the pilgrims had spent their first summer in the america on the cape, just down the road from the future provincetown… a place with very little deception… my kids knew the judy garland on skates handing out fliers to the cabaret was an xy even before they knew santa was false.

so, the root of the stability malaysian society holds on standard family values is the lack of connection to the santa and easter bunny myths. malay kids have no example of parents caught red handed in conspiratorial disregard for the truth. this allows the parents to hold onto myths and reinforce them much longer than is possible in the west. without the ability to catch a parent in a lie, the child and then adult is kept in the belief of myth cycle…. (hey, it’s a theory that appears to make sense).

now… given it so clearly damages not only the family cohesion, but the ties to conservative society and belief in religion in general… we need to consider who the backers of all of these myths really are. in the secular society of the west, we realize that all three myths are truly propagated by the commercial interests of big business. selling holiday cards, candy and all things gift worthy during christmas is the post-myth acceptable relationship with these holidays. secularism is supported by the understanding that the religious backing of these holidays are if not completely false, than highly questionable.

the question of course becomes… is santa then a conspiracy within a conspiracy. the revelation that santa and his cousin myths so clearly damage the tie in the west between person and belief, turning it into a purely secular and consumer based event… is it possible that this was the sinister goal from the very beginning. is santa a patsy, a fall-guy, meant to expose the deeper myths propagated by the church and other conservative groups in the pre-enlightenment era? is the vast right-wing conspiracy of the holidays a carefully constructed and amazingly executed sinister left-wing conspiracy to expose myth in general? to teach the west that myth both in religion and family are so clearly false that even an 8 year old can see though them.

malaysia has been lucky to largely avoid this exposure by being off the radar of the consumerism of the west. but as malls expand here, and consumerism takes an ever deeper hold on the society, it is only a matter of time.

malaysian children, in order to complete in the world, will soon be the unfair target of learning, knowledge and the ability to analyze when adults are lying to them. how will the society, so clearly requiring the unquestioned belief in elders survive such a vicious and evil assault?

protect your family, your children and your society. ban bad santa.

Monday, February 25, 2008

family rules

growing up there were things we called john-isms, they were little pearls of witty repartee which my father would throw out at just the right moment for a laugh. i have tried to go back and reconstruct them, but its never going to happen, i think the context has been lost. i have thought of asking my sister to help, but more likely than not we would need to be together sitting with a bottle between us drunk and laughing to remember most of them. i mean “you lie like a rug” and “that’s a useless as a tit on a bull” are gems, but the rest may be lost to time.

as the kids were growing up i tried to keep a running list of family rules, the little sayings that i hoped they would carry into their adult lives. i tried to give them numbers, to show that they were real, kind of like the ten commandments. imagine the commandments if they were not numbered. they just wouldn't have the same feeling of gravitas as the "small number of commandments".

last week i was talking to a vegetarian who is going to the US soon. while discussing food i used the first family rule we had, “there is no guilt at the top of the food chain”. this was something a friend had said in an indian restaurant one night that worked years later when the kids didn’t want to eat bambi, sebastian or some other animal that disney has removed from the family table by humanizing them.

the questions that came were “how many rules are there?” and “what does the order mean?”. i started making a list, i had the first five locked down but the rest were more mixed into memories of parenting. by the time i was done listing them, i realized the list was longer than i expected, i also had to reorder the list, because guilt in the food chain was not as important as the two that now go before it in the list. the following are the rules that our family has been built to live by:

  1. we love you, no matter what
  2. do what you love, the rest will come
  3. there is no guilt at the top of the food chain
  4. they always find out
  5. when in doubt, don’t
  6. safety first, fun when safe (no glove, no love)
  7. team, corp, god, country (family, friends, god, everyone else)
  8. listen, think, act, then talk
  9. if you need an answer now… no
  10. love is trust
  11. family means no one is left behind
  12. if you can’t win, change the rules
  13. trying hard and failing is success (failure is never trying)
  14. patience is a long awaited virtue
  15. god judges, friends help
  16. life is short, enjoy it

okay, so these do not have the color of my father’s sayings. they are more targeted at giving the kids something of substance to remember when they hear my voice coming out of their mouths someday. or was it to give them a voice to their conscience, solid words which they would remember from years before, maybe along with a lesson in life. number four for example went along with our oldest son running an illicit po-ke-man black-market, and using the proceeds to fund the winning of a charity fundraiser. it’s always easier to not lie when you know that “they always find out”.

the amazing thing is how often these little sayings can be used. better, i have heard the older kids use them over the past few years. knowing these sayings got through to them, and that the little man will grow up hearing them even though i am not there to say it helps.

having this list does not mean that my fathers saying were useless as teaching models. he also used to tell us “we don’t care if you’re a garbage man, as long as you are the best garbage man you can be”. that was something i carry with me everyday.

it also does not mean that we don’t have a few modernized -isms, these are little saying that the kids and i trade around a table while we are laughing. usually, someone just says it and everyone laughs, no explanation is needed, we all know the context.

  • if someone asks you if you’re a god, you say YES.
  • i love this plan, i’m excited to be a part of it.
  • i think we've established that "ka ka" and "tukki tukki" don't work.
  • ohhhhh, i hate mummies.
  • no, i didn't bring it. you know why? because you said, "you won't need that man, we'll be back in a half-hour.

and finally one rule that didn’t make the list, one i was surprised to hear our daughter say on vacation last year when the little man had fallen, “unless there is a compound fracture or arterial bleeding, you’re fine”. it may sound insensitive, but when someone little has skinned a knee, sometimes it’s better to just help them get up and get moving again.

running the family with rules helps. it gives us a chance to always remember what we agree is important.

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

distant parenting

i called the kids today to say happy new year. i was sitting in a café, it was 1:30 in the afternoon and they were 30 minutes after their new year. i timed the call to allow their friends to have first shot at them as they gave each other good wishes for the year to come. but the call led to questions on my role as a parent who lives so far away and how i should act towards my kids, people i see as adults both out of choice and necessity.

my daughter sounded happy and healthy. she was laughing and playful as she answered the phone. she is known for the ability to have divergent moods, there are times when you need to access the situation before pressing a conversation. today was simple and easy. she had been playing with her friends, she said they were outside sledding in the newly fallen snow. she sounded at ease with the world.

i asked if she had been drinking, the mood was almost too good. she said she had not, but the relaxed tone of the conversation and the level of laughter would point someone with a suspicious mind in another direction. she is not a big drinker, her 7 year old brother had more alcohol on our trip to europe last year, so i am not worried. she is smart and in control of her life, she will make the right choices.

the next call was to her older, but possibly not smarter, brother. this call was harder to understand. he was driving with his friends, it was clear from the slurred words that there had been consumption. we talked for a few minutes and i told him i love him, when he loudly replied he loved me too, the car erupted with other calls of love and friendship from those around him.

the driver of the car thanked me for all the years of allowing him to snowboard on the hill that made up our front yard. as a further sign of gratitude my son’s friend promised to light up a “peace pipe” with me the next time i am back in the US. although it’s a generous offer, it is one that i have no intent of accepting. this did not stop my son from begging me to “promise to do it”.

as i recounted this to my lunch companion, the face of concern came out. how can you accept that your son is driving around at night, drinking with his friends and smoking a peace pipe? how can you be a father if he asks you do such things with him?

i tried to explain that i have no intent of being anything more than a concerned father, that for years i tried to change my kids to be the way i thought they should be, that i wanted them to be safe and to act in ways that would guarantee that. but that now, now i just want them to be happy and to talk to me. i also want them to know that i love them. being this far away, and having few chances to actively parent, i have finally taken the advice my wife used to give me.

she spent years telling me to pick my battles and to make sure the kids knew i loved them first. that’s what i try to do now, what i want to do every day. if that means i don’t tell them something dumb is dumb when i find out about it, well that’s just part of parenting from the other side of the world.

i am happy that they talk to me, that they will share with me what is really happening in their lives, and that they know i love them. if the passive approach is all i have, i will take it. it has helped me get closer to my kids, and has helped us connect more deeply than we were when i would have gotten mad at them making what i thought was a dumb choice.

allowing your children to grow up does come with the need to accept them as adults. unfortunately, or maybe it’s fortunately, our kids have just gotten there a little ahead of schedule. maybe i was also a little behind schedule, i could have taken this approach all along. having friends and family in my life, even if they are occasionally under the influence is more important to me than being in charge.

distant parenting means focusing on, i love you. of course, i always end the conversation with, be careful. parenting from any distance comes with concern as well as acceptance.

Sunday, June 24, 2007

assumptions

as the kids and i walk together, as we sit with friends at a table, as i stand next to a woman i am comfortable with, the thought, "what do people think of us" crosses my mind. do people pass by us as they walk and see us coming towards them, or see us at a table having a meal, do they attempt to categorize us. where are we from? who are we? what do we do for work or play? who are we with?

people do it to all the time, everyone does it to the people around them, but i wonder how closely people can come when they do this while looking at me and the people i love. If i am alone with my kids, a pre-college jock-punk, a mid-high school bohemian chick and an elementary school ball of energy; who do people think we are? when we are traveling, do people know i am a single dad? as we laugh and joke with each other, it’s clear that we are happy; do they think that’s good, given moms death? or do they look and immediately know we are divorce survivors who have found the way to stay connected, even when forces pull us apart? is all of this unclear to them and they just think mom walked away for a few minutes and expect a curly haired woman to come up to us with a big smile and natural organizational skills.

when we go out with other families, families who do not have a father, do people look at them and think we are a large and loud single unit, rather than the two smaller families who have simply thrown our lots together and move with a natural flair of people who enjoy each others company.

these are questions that are closely related to the, ”can people tell i am an american” that i play with when traveling for business. the first time this was clear to me was the 4 AM transit flight into frankfurt a few years ago. i walked into the business class lounge, before i could open my mouth the fraulein behind the desk said, “hello, can i help you?” the shock that she could identify me as an english speaker was real. my family is a mix of every respectable european country, I can easily be mistaken for irish, english, dutch or german, but somehow, I am sure, she knew I was an american. I realize it’s not shocking, i can do the same most of the time, telling the difference between germans and brits by random mannerisms and clothing, but it was clear to me that my nationality shows through in a discernable way.

i was shopping in an outdoor market a few months ago, I was looking at a buddhist bracelet, called a dzi, which channels energy and can be customized for the wearer in order to provide the energy boosts required for each person. the owner of the stall looked at me and said, “this one is for people in management, it will provide five good energies and remove four bad energies, this would be good given your job”. i had never met this person before, but he had picked me out as a manager who needed nine energies to be rechanneled. this is despite the cargo shorts, pink t-shirt and flip flops which i was sure made me look more like an aging surfer than the general manager of a company.

so now i walk with my kids, with my friends, with my co-workers, with families for which i am not an official member and i question what people think the relationships are. can people tell who and what we are just by looking at us? can they see who we are just by watching us look at and talk with each other? can they see the comfort, the passion, the commitment to each other? can they feel the pain of the histories some of us carry with us?

within the asian community there is a strong question of “what would people think”. this helps to drive the people in the community to either keep actions to those which they are comfortable with everyone knowing, or to go to great lengths to ensure no one will ever know when they act in ways that require privacy. as an american there is an assumption of privacy, as well as a lack of concern with what people think. my father taught us to say, “who gives a f--- what people think”, its our life and we can live it anyway we want to.

but the question is, when people see us leading our lives. when they see the groups, the smiles, the bumps of the shoulder, the kisses on the cheek during hello and goodbye, when they hear the mix of languages at our table, what do they think? who do they think we are?

we are a modern family, we travel, we share many things other families would keep private and we have a good time. i am almost definitely sure everyone can tell that about us.

Saturday, April 21, 2007

fatherhood

in the past 10 days i have played with and held children on three continents. i have had a little monster with bright blue eyes and green crocs, dance with joy at the simple sight of me. i have had a seven year old run to me and hug me so hard that i was able to start breathing again after three months of holding my breath. i have also gotten a hug from a wild-haired teenager who makes it clear that although she gives the best hugs in the world, she only gives them to grandma.

with no doubt in my mind i can say that i lead a strange and blessed life. i have children; i am a father, which is all i really ever wanted to be. i have had different jobs: lifeguard, accountant, software engineer, consultant, manager. but, the job i have enjoyed the most, missed the most when i was not doing it is father. work is simply work, it allows me provide for the family, in the past 15 years it has also let me build surrogate families which i could lead and in whom i called the staff, “the kids”. but the kids that matter to me the most are the little ones with the big eyes who bring you a toy and ask you to play with them, expecting you to say “of course” because of who you are.

i have three children from my marriage; one for which i was there at conception and birth. being there and holding my wife’s hand while she gave birth to our children was a defining goal for me as i entered adulthood. i would find a woman i loved, we would have children, we would make them from the love we shared and we would always be there for them. that is what i still want to accomplish, but the rules of the game have changed to allow me to still declare this a win.

i proposed to my wife when her daughter looked at me one night while i was tucking her in. she was beautiful with big brown eyes and a bigger loving heart. she asked me, “will you marry my mommy and be my daddy?” there was nothing more in the world that i wanted, or that i thought would make me happy. i married the woman i loved and i ended up with three kids, all of whom i love equally, all of whom call me dad.

there are men in this world who walk away from their children. some live 20 minutes away and never see the kids. they may be too busy, or too angry, to pick up the phone and see how the kids are doing. they don’t want to bump into the new man in mom’s life or they simply never had the interest in the kids in the first place. many have the ability to blame the wife for all the things that poisoned the relationship and have caused them to not see the kids. you find these men starting over, starting new families and saying this time will be different. do any of these men see themselves as bad fathers? do they take responsibility for the tears the children shed?

fatherhood is the small moments. it’s taking the time to get out of the chair and to teach the kids to swim. it’s taking the training wheels off the bike and telling them its okay to fall, as long as you get back up again and keep trying. it’s cleaning a scrape out and holding them until they stop crying. it’s taking them to the window and laughing at the lightening that has them scared; making a game of it so they are never scared again. it’s keeping in mind the big picture and picking your battles, its staying relaxed when they have your frustrated, its laughing when you could otherwise be upset. its making sure they know there is nothing in the world more important to you than they are.

fatherhood is taking a picture as you drive fast down the highway, to digitally capture the sun shimmering on the wind blown hair of your daughter, or waking up in the middle of the night on the couch with your head touching your son’s head. it’s lighting a fire in the back yard and letting the kids play in the dirt until they are exhausted. it’s taking time from your writing to give your kid a hug, just because he needs one.

the most important part of fatherhood is to be able to love their mother. it doesn’t matter what happened in the relationship. kids need to know they were made from love. they need to know that the two people they love the most are willing to put any other issues aside for them. this is the difference between a man and a father. fathers put the kids first, always.

i am not the dictionary definition people think of when they think of a father. i live half a world away, i stay connected via the internet, but i love my kids with all my heart. fatherhood is the only job i will ever define myself by. my bonus is the hugs and smiles i get from the kids. life is good, good because i have kids in my life who love me.