Fathers

It occurred to me that Sunday is Father's Day, so I ought to blog about fathers. I had started another blog that I had intended to post today, but that can wait until next week.

I recently saw 'The Pursuit of Happyness' starring Will Smith as Chris Gardner. I thought it was a very good movie. If you haven't seen it, then let me just say that Chris Gardner is a man that wants to be sure, above all else, that he continues to be a part of his son's life. It struck me the there was a particularly interesting contrast between that role and Will Smith's first acting role, playing a young man without a father in 'Fresh Prince of Bel Air.'

The TV series storyline was basically that he had been, up until the first episode of the show, being raised by a single mother in Philadelphia. His mother's sister had married a lawyer, who had managed to do well, and Uncle Phil now has a house in Bel Air. Mom gets worried that he may not live through his teen years in their neighborhood, but her sister's family has lots of room in a very safe neighborhood. One of the most memorable episodes in the series was one where his father, Lou (played by Ben Vereen), actually did come to see him. When Lou shows up at the house, Uncle Phil (played by James Avery), says simply, "Hello, Lou." James Avery is such a great actor, though, with those two words he conveys the message: "Look, I'm not happy to see you. Normally, I wouldn't even let you into my house. For Will's sake, I'll make an exception. But I'm going to be watching you." The final scene of the show, Lou has spent a lot of time with Will, and ends up disappointing him, and then just leaves. Will turns to Uncle Phil, who has basically been his father for the last four years, and starts explaining why he doesn't need his father. "Ive had fourteen great years without him. I've had fourteen great birthdays without him." etc. Uncle Phil just stands there, agreeing with him, but waiting, like those of us in the audience, for the dam to burst. When it does, Will Smith's line is, "Why don't he want me?" and he collapses into Uncle Phil's arms. I wept when I saw that. To be honest, I'm not sure why. Maybe because I know that things like that really happen, it isn't just TV; maybe because my own father has always been there for me.

I am sometimes surprised when I do something, or say something, and I see or hear my father in it. Obviously, he has been an enormous influence on my life. I can't imagine what it would be like to not have that influence. Sometimes I'm disappointed with myself because I get into a situation, and, afterwords, realize that my dad would have handled it better. I remember when I was about ten, for some reason my father and I went to a special church service. I don't remember what the occasion was, or why the rest of the family didn't come, but there we were. It was a hot day, and the air conditioning wasn't working. The pastor got into his sermon, I don't know, fifteen or twenty minutes, and one of the altar boys let out a sigh and collapsed on the floor. He hit his head on the foot of the altar. I remember thinking that somebody should check on him. As I was thinking that, I became aware that the seat beside me was now empty. As I was thinking that it might not be a good idea to move the altar boy because he might have a spinal injury, my father scooped him up and carried him out the side door to the church office. After some time had passed, my father quietly slipped back into church and sat back down. The sermon had not been concluded yet. Afterwards, I found out that he had called the paramedics, they had come, checked the boy out (I say boy, he was older than I was), put a band-aid on him, and left again (he broke open his forehead when he hit the altar, but other than that, he was fine). I was impressed that Dad knew just what to do. There were at least twenty other men in the service, none of them moved. I suppose it's possible that the minister gave a signal, that I missed, for my father to take care of it and everyone else stay put; I don't know. What I feel, is that if I were placed in a new situation, something I've never encountered before, I would almost certainly react like the other men, and not like my father. Out of all the things that I have inherited from my father, I really wish I had inherited the ability to confidently make the right decision in a strange situation.

Let me just repeat a couple of stories that my father has been known to tell:

One is that a farmer had his tractor break down just as he was about to start planting. He had way too much land, and seed, to do the whole farm by hand, but getting the tractor repaired is going to take some time, and there's only so much time to plant. If he doesn't get the seeds in the ground soon, they won't have time to grow before harvest. He doesn't have the money for a new tractor. In the process of the back and forth, trying to work something out, he notices that his neighbor (who is also a farmer), has finished planting and is putting his tractor away. So he goes to his neighbor, hat in hand, explains the situation, and asks to borrow the tractor. The neighbor considers this, scratches his head, and then says, "Well, I'd like to help you out, but, my rope's broken." The first farmer, crestfallen, turns to go, and then stops, and says, "Waitaminute! What does your rope have to do with you loaning me your tractor?" "Well, nothin', really, I guess, but when you don't want to do something, any excuse is good enough."

(Personally, I would think that, under those circumstances, a farmer would loan his tractor, even to another farmer that he didn't like.)

The second story deals with a little bird that wondered why it is that birds are supposed to fly south for the winter. None of the other birds knew, it was just something that they did. He decided that he would stay 'north' one winter and find out. So September comes, and all the others birds fly south. October comes, and it starts to get a little chilly. November comes, and it's getting worse. December comes, and he decides he's had enough. Flying south, though, he encounters a violent snowstorm. He can't get over it, it's too big to go around it, and before you know it, the poor guy's wings are frozen. He manages a survivable landing in a field in southern Indiana. As he's lying there, he thinks to himself that he's going to die. Then he looks up, and sees a horse coming towards him. It doesn't look like the horse has noticed him. He cringes, thinking that he's going to get stomped, but one hoof hits close by, then another, then another, and another; and the horse stops. Now he is almost directly between the horse's two rear hooves. The horse's tail goes up in the air, and, in much the same way that this little bird has made deposits on new cars all over North America, he finds himself on the receiving end. Now he's laying there, thinking to himself, "What a horrible way to die! I would have been better off staying where I was--at least then I'd just freeze to death; I wouldn't die like this." But as he lay there, he realized that the he was warming up; that he had a 'blanket' that was essentially the same temperature as the horse. As soon as he had thawed out, he pulled himself out from under the horse's gift, climbed on top of it, and began to sing. The farmer's cat, however, heard him singing, snuck up behind him, and ate him. There are a number of morals to this story: 1) Not everybody who dumps on you is your enemy. 2) Not everyone who gets you out of a mess is your friend. 3) Just because you're on top of the heap, it doesn't mean you have to sing about it. 4) If you know that you're supposed to do something, then do it. You don't have to understand why you're supposed to do it, just do it.

Of course, some people would rather just make excuses.