I Am Not My Father

One could not grow up in my generation and not hear adults exclaim with some measure of horror that they were beginning to act like, sound like, and repeat phrases learned from their parents, so I too knew that day would eventually come, and decided not to fight it. Little did I know I would have to do more than not fight, but instead embrace it, but embrace it because it was true (I suspect this is why it is such a horror to some, knowing their parents were right all along). I did embrace the wisdom of my parents, and in so doing was able to see the noble characteristics in my folks. Since I am a man, I looked to my father as a role model as a child, and I have found I learned more than I knew I learned; his noble qualities are something I have come to want to posses, something I recognize I overlooked as a child, and took for granted.

I wish I could say my father was perfect, because I yet have a tremendous amount of respect for him. Sadly we are all only human, and that means we fall short of perfection in this life. We usually dwell on this point with a sad and heavy heart, yearning for a better world, yet I would like to point out a positive: the good men stand all the more when we know they are not perfect. My father was a good one, and if he were slightly less of a good man I would be breaking my back trying to live up to him; strange as it may seem, I have learned I do not need to live up to him, just be a good man myself. Over the years he has set an example that I have found impossible to meet, and it has been only recently that I had to remind myself that I am a different man, with different talents, different desires, different limitations, and live in a different era.

Among other good traits my father is handy about the house. He is always active, working on some project around the house or in the house. It is rather rare for him not to do a job himself, not out of pride, and I don't think the saved money has always been the motive; my father is a "do it yourself-er" because he enjoys it. Consequently my parents have a wonderful home that is still a relaxing environment. Every time they want to have something done to the house, they do it, and I grew up observing this — I was also conscripted into the work party.

Now I am a home owner, and unlike our apartment all the maintenance falls on my shoulders. This was not unexpected, nor was the sheer amount of work unexpected. I did not expect to have a battle of desires. I am not my father, I do not get the same joy or pleasure out of working on my home like my father does, and I was trying to mimic him. He did set a good example; I can return home for a visit and see the fruit of their labors and know my small tasks are possible. However, where my father enjoys the doing of the project, I enjoy the finished state. I find it hard to motivate myself to further the projects in and around my home when I have other tasks that are far more important to me. I place a great value (and thus desire) on reading and my writing, that not doing either is an impossible burden to me, just as not being able to do chores is hard task for my father (which is highlighted every time he falls ill).

I have only recently realized that not only is it good for me to do chores around the house (among other things it will set a good example for the children we will eventually have) I need to balance the projects (not chores) with my greater desires. It will pain me, the first few times, to hire out some of the work I know my father would have done himself, but the reward will come in the increased time to work on my own projects. And this is what I have concluded: we both have our pet projects, my father's happen to be working on the house. I will obviously spend more, hiring out labor for tasks I could do, but perhaps I will write that "Great American Novel" because I hired out.

The revelation I have had this week is that I am different from my father. He set a good example, and much of it I can follow. He acted according to his values, and some of our amoral values are different. We will make different decisions; I will not mimic him in all things, but that is the joy and beauty of our continued relationship. Despite our differences he is still proud to call me son, and I'm still proud to call him Papa.

I love you Papa.