Like a blinding light... 3130201

One of the complex gifts that I am offered regularly as an advocate in older child adoption is a front row view of the delicate balance between what I espouse professionally, what I live with daily and the images and lessons learned in my own childhood. I work in New York City and I live in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Like many parents who spend significant time away from loved ones I like to think that the time I spend at home I make good use of. As a result of having to spend significant time away from my family I have learned to notice the subtle and not so subtle changes that creep into our family life. These changes are not always profound however occasionally I am stopped dead in my tracks.
This night started out like any other. We were finishing up our meal and settling in for the evening. Recently, Karin and I had decided that the children are old enough to have a few simple chores assigned to them. Geneva our daughter is eight years old and growing more beautiful and grown up everyday. Brandon is ten years old and stretching steadily skyward, maturing instantly before our very eyes. Geneva’s dinner chore is to set the table. She has taken to this task with the grace and elegance of her mother.
Brandon’s chore is to clear the table after dinner. He accomplishes his task with the grace and elegance of a waiter with tickets to Cats; a waiter who has already missed the opening curtain.
In any event, the kids agreed that these were reasonable chores and they really hadn’t given us a great deal of grief about them.
Brandon was clearing the dishes from the table. I rather innocently suggested that he rinse the dishes and place them into the dishwasher. This was definitely not a part of the original agreement and Brandon pointed that fact out to me. Shocked, I stated in no uncertain terms that as his father I didn’t need his agreement. My thinking was so what’s another ten minutes or so at the sink. Brandon would not be moved. With the calm demeanor of a practiced attorney he simply refused the additional chore and made his case plainly. “ No Dad, that was not what I agreed to do...” he stated. “ you said, I would clear the table. You didn’t mention anything about rinsing the plates and loading the dishwasher. ”
As I stood face to face with the emergence of my self-actualizing child I was floored by the sheer brilliance of his free will. My initial instinct and inclination was to reach out and punish this impudent child with the rage that my shameful childhood experience had taught me. If I allow my grip to be loosened now how would I get him back into the box? Things would never be the same again! Reflex cried out for me to strike down this assault upon my authority with a fury that I was strangely no longer committed to.
For a split second I felt impotent and small. In the intensity that clarity can bring all the exposure that I had feared washed over me like waves at the beach. I was center stage caught in the glaring lights of my own one-man show. My son smiled past the “no” as if it were his right. He didn’t stutter or stammer not even an instant of hesitation. Instinctively sensing his father’s discomfort he patted my shoulders in a consoling manner and moved on. My wife and daughter continued their dinner conversation as though no crime had been committed. Yet here I sat still waiting for the familiar cycle of Loss–Rejection, Anger, Disappointment, Depression and Shame to play itself out. My L-RADD-S cycle has long been my established modus operandi whenever the “real world” clashed with the images in my “perceived world”. In the imaginary world of “Father Knows Best” his children never voiced, uttered or otherwise exhibited any sort of disobedience, not in thought nor deed. Television had not laid the groundwork for dealing with this occurrence. In my childhood no was not an option.
The perceived Loss of my God given and absolute authority, control and power “should” have been unacceptable. It was strangely liberating. My ten-year-old son’s Rejection of the notion that his father deserved and demanded unyielding obedience; “should” have sent me into a rage. The concept was unimaginable both in the childhood that I knew and in the mind’s eye of the idealized adult father figure that I thought I had become. There was however, no rage not even any real Anger. The moment left me reflective and slightly melancholy. The Disappointment, Depression and Shame were all strangely absent leaving only the words and the reality. Curious how the things we sometime fear the most can serve to spark or rekindle the development of our spirit and contribute greatly to what John Bradshaw called our “soul work”.
My ten-year-old son had stood against his father’s will and in an instant left the patriarchy in ruins. He expressed no disrespect; nor did he infer or imply any ill will toward his father. This moment was about a child voicing a different perspective on an issue of minor significance. I realized that after the initial impact had worn off my baby boy had begun to move away from me. This bittersweet slice of reality hung in the air like gun smoke. I was witnessing the demise of the illusion of my fatherly omnipotence. Wonder of wonders I was free of that mantle and my world did not collapse nor did I die a thousand deaths. I was free!
It took me several days to fully digest my feelings. The adequacy of my response from a division of labor standpoint is debatable. I also spent many hours realizing that for me no small matter had transpired. The issue was not my son saying no to his father; rather it was the strange realization that it was okay. This was the first time he flat-out refused to do what I asked him to do and that was o-k-a-y. I lost nothing in his eyes and gained much by accepting and respecting his budding independence. My wife sat smiling sweetly as if to say “welcome to the club”. In the traditional role of the American father we often miss out on the priceless incremental developments that mark the various stages in our family life. How we accept the inevitable nature of those changes can have monumental effects on all of these pivotal relationships.
The interactions with my children, and my spouse hold exciting new possibilities. I am free to be husband and father. I can define the parameters of my relationships based on the real desires I hold for my life. The symbolic liberation that I imbue this moment with serves to usher in a new frame - work for all my future interactions. Now perhaps I can begin to assert and challenge some of my most entrenched personal beliefs and assumptions. Like many husbands and fathers outdated and unrealistic notions have held me prisoner for years.
When there was no father figure present in my life I looked for answers in fantasy. As my mother struggled with her own issues and the ever present issue of putting food on the table, a roof over our heads and clothes on our backs; she was not equipped to supply what I needed in this regard.
Finally, I can turn the channel on the television version of fatherhood that has helped to keep me locked in a box that offered no room for real life. In real life I want my children to know that they have the right to be heard. I want my children to know that I not only love and cherish them but that I respect them as unique and wonderful human beings just because they are. My “Father knows best” baggage that had seemed too familiar to put down is old and played out. I know now that I can create my own model from this point forward. I know that on some level I have already created some of that as I have played a part in raising children that know they have the right to be heard.
The following bit of wisdom I gleaned from the movie Rat Race that I recently watched on VHS with my baby boy, one character was trying to convince another to take a risk and join in the race “good things happen over time, great things happen all at once.” Like a blinding light shot through a crack into the darkest corner of my consciousness my ten-year-old son said “no” and freed us both forever.

Mother calls to me,
yet I will not answer.
I see dread in mama's eyes,
yet I will not be warm.

Mother loves me in her way,
which has taught me to love in mine.

Little boys grow
to be men who act as boys.
Boys that learn to
act not feel.

Boys who seek shelter
in idle mischief and malevolent fun.

Alas, all the worlds a mother's fault
at least in the eyes of her son.

FALLING FROM THE MIDNIGHT SKY
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Falling from the midnight sky
I see visions of another time

I walk through the center of my fear
Not with head bowed or heart heavy laden.
I feel the power that dwells within the recesses of my soul

The potency of my ancestors flows through the blood in my veins.
I see that the gloom is merely a pause in the light

My children stand on a foundation layered with my two hands
Just as I bare the mark of my mother’s toil.
My mother shares the wisdom of eight decades
Exposing me to the courage to endure.

I see that history unfolds in the present
and is preserved through the exercise of the mind and the open arms
of a willing spirit.

Falling from the midnight sky
I hold dear my prayers and force the will to do

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