The Mythic Man
Ok I feel maybe as my birthday fast approaches I have the choice to do one of two things: be introspective or to be drunk/drugged outta my head. Last few years I spent as much time under various influences, some for medical reasons, some for personal. Don't get me wrong - I never slacked on my job one bit. And since now I have to provide a good role modle, plus the whole part where I've pretty much quit everything. Ok sure I still smoke cigarrettes, and drink occaisionally, as well as... extraneous a few times a year - but I don't ever do too much, or so much that I no longer remember WHY I did whatever I did. See prior I was a functioning addict I guess. Yes I managed to beat it, yes I still get cravings. But y'know what? I've found that if I give myself just alittle of whatever I'm craving - from coffee or chocolate to a cigarette or something else - then the cravin' goes away for a long time. Guess maybe I mellowed or somethin'.
Ok but basically now I'm introspective.
Rhion made me read some essay for her class by a guy named Brad Manning. It was called "Arm Wrestling With My Father."
It was a narrative essay in chronological order. That means that the author wants you to find a turnin' point somewhere in the essay where somethin' changes or is realized. But so it starts off with Manning as a kid and his dad arm wrestlin' with him and he's just a kid so a'course his dad wins. Well basically this shit goes on for years - physical love from a parent, like based in sport and shit like that. "Classic" father-son bondin'. Well that kinda bondin's a load a'bull if you ask me. But so the rest goes - Manning goes off to uni and then he gets t'see his dad again.
The man's older, frailer, and he and Manning arm wrestle for old times' sake.
Of course the younger and stronger Manning wins.
It made him feel odd. Worried.
So later on he's at the airport seein' his parents off. He gets the usual soft lovin' hug from his mum, but when he goes to shake his dad's hand his dad goes to hug'em.
Now guys sometimes hug eachother as a test of strength and affection. Kinda like shakin' hands and squeezin' while mentally goin' "Oh yeah I squeeze yer hand and you squeeze mine as hard as we can! Whoohoo! Lessee who's the stronger one'a us!"
That's the sorta hug Manning's expectin' from his dad.
Nah - he gets a soft lingerin' lovin' hug from his dad. Just like he got from his mum.
And he starts to realize that he ain't got much time left with his dad.
And that his dad loves'em.
Now y'ask what kinda bearin' that's got on me. I can hear ya thinkin' that. Either that or you're thinkin' "Oh but you're a military guy, ain't ya supposeta have that kinda distant macho relationship with yer dad?"
Truthfully, no. Distance with one's parents ain't a good idea. Makes for a bad childhood and a maladjusted adulthood, necessitatin' lots of therapy. So shove your old fashioned ideas that dad's gotta be some authoritarian tough guy with boys, and that mum's are the only source of affection. It's stupid and pointless.
So with that bein' my opinion then y'gotta wonder why the hell this essay got me.
I've always seen Dad as some kinda legendary and mythically proportioned man. He's done so much shit that's outta this world. How many guys can claim they've lived through WW2, the Korean Conflict, Vietnam, and tons of various "minor" engagements? How many guys can claim they've outlived 90% of their friends and loved ones, buried 15 children and outlived a few wives? Ok ex-wives in some cases.
I'll tell ya not many. Not only that but he's still a half way decent guy. He loves us and takes care of us and would do anythin' to make sure we were happy and healthy.
But as a kid I saw him as some kinda war hero. And he was to a degree. You won't ever read 'bout him in books, you won't never see him listed with tons of medals for valor. Nah he ain't that kinda guy. He's private but stands by ya.
He pushed me to suceed. That ain't a bad thing. But beyond that I pushed MYSELF to suceed. Hell actually I really pushed myself to out do him. Yeah. So alotta the distance 'tween he and I is all on me. I wasn't his obvious fave of his kids. And I ain't his fave, that title goes to Rhion and I don't begrudge her that. Hell she's MY fave, my brothers can go fuck themselves for all I care 95% of the time. (Can y'tell we don't get along so good? Well I am the youngest of the boys so maybe that'd be why... Plus I've surpassed alla them too. And that sticks in their craws.)
Well because I saw all this "extra" affection goin' to Norris my twin and to Sims. (Sims - Scott-Micheal - got disowned for some shit he did to Rhion, basically he tried to kill'er and Dad beat the shit outta him and then let him heal up, and sent him on his way after that.) And I wasn't gettin' none'a this extra stuff. No pickin' me up, no cuddles unless I sought them out, no back rubs to help me go to sleep. None'a that. The other's got it and I didn't.
But I distinctly remember him watchin' over us sometimes, Norris, Rhion and I used to like sleepin' in the same bed all piled up like a litter of kittens. I'm a light sleeper, always have been. And his sillouette in the doorway, leanin' against the doorframe, arms crossed, and one leg crossed over the other and his head tilted to the side, the moonlight glintin' in his eyes every now and then.
Those times I feigned continued sleep.
Sometimes though he'd take a few more steps into the room and sit on the edge of the bed, long, scarred, calloused fingers brushing strands of hair away from a mouth or a closed eye or offa a forehead or a cheek. And then he'd lean over and lay a soft kiss on my brow or Norris' or Rhion's. Then re-tuckin' the shucked covers up over us gently.
*lights up fifth cigarrette from when started writin' this, pours another drink, knocks it back, paper wrapped tobacco stick waftin' smoke up into the air danglin' between two long scarred fingers, sets glass down*
When I think 'bout all that - it makes me have this sudden urge to drink.
*salutes computer monitor with a newly filled tumbler*
See here's what Rhion says 'bout this whole shit 'tween Dad n' me. She says that he felt maybe I was strong enough to not need "extra" from him. Like he knew his time with Rhion was limited (her mum kidnapped her outta the country when she and Dad got divorced) and like his time was limited with Norris who died far too young.
I dunno if she's right. Alotta the time it seems that way. But I'm too angry for feelin' that Dad didn't reach out to me. For lettin' me set such high standards. For him bein' so good at everythin'. Oh the man's got his faults, tons of them. I felt left out I guess. Odd if you think 'bout it.
Dad stood up t'my Gran and Gran-Gran at my birth. Prayin' or whatever plus his field medical abilities (not that Gran or Gran-Gran didn't know those things or try'em on me) tryin' t'get me t'breathe. To live. And I did.
Even still if I'm feelin' iffy then guess what? I can call Dad wherever he is and he'll talk with me, sing to me, tell me stories, read to me - any'a that. And if he's there in person? Oh he'd hold me and let me cry on his shoulder and stroke my hair and pat my back.
Y'think that's odd don'tcha?
That grown man like me can turn t'my Dad and lean on him when I need'em for little things and big things. And that I'm comfortable admitin' that.
If y'think that's weird then you don't really understand, n'do ya?
And if y'think how odd it is that with all that, that I can still feel that he don't love me.
Him lovin' me was never in doubt. But I never felt best at anythin'.
Again, strange, yes? For as much as I toot my own horn, I feel like I ain't best.
*shakes head at you*See there's all kinds of "best."
*raises one finger at you like makin' a point*I never felt like I was "best" to him at all. Or like I was better than him.
The oddest thing is this: He told Julia right up - a woman he doesn't know really - that I was a twit for not realizin' that I'd already out done him. In all sorts'a ways. He told her all kindsa things, probably with the hope that maybe if she told me that he'd said that, explained that, that then I'd listen to her. Cuz I rarely listen t'Dad when he tries to tell me anythin' like that. Just tune it right out and grunt at him.
Dad's 88 goin' on 89. Even in my family that's pretty old. And we tend to live to 100 if we make it to 50. That means I got 'bout 11 years. If I myself live that long.
He and I are too alike. Though he's a hard man who's lived through hard times and came from hard times. Any "normal" softness was beaten outta him by life.
Havin' to shoot your own first born in the head durin' 'nam to stop his screamin' cuz he was dyin' from a napalm bomb in the guts kinda does that.
How much are he and I alike? Beyond the superficial fact that I look like a more delicate version of him (yeah delicate - you heard me, got a problem with that description? Come get some then! I'm up for a brawl right 'round now..)
Ok I'm in the military just like him, so what?
Yeah well all of us joined at some point or were involved with it except for Rhion. And she's still got better trainin' than 60% at least of most militaries.
Nah - our reactions. How we reason. How we think. Even how we move. Sound. Our interests in history, religion, theory, readin', writin', music, technology, video games, psychology, sociology, tactics, fightin' - all realms of the martial.
How devoted we are to those who're important to us.
Takin' food and water only after everyone else has and is as safe as they can be.
How we each enjoy a good drink, a good smoke, a good peice of artwork.
The balance in a sword.
Facial expresions too.
Even to how we raise our daughters.
Verona is everythin' to me just as Rhion is to Dad.
Sometimes two people are so alike that the tiny differences in them make sure that it becomes next to impossible to communicate.
People fear Dad. His men sure as hell did.
My men love me.
Follow me to Hell'n back and storm the gates of Heaven.
Some of my guys and some his guys both make he and I out to be larger than life.
There are no heros. And life is a bitch, then you die - if you're lucky.
Yes I realize Dad loves me, there's always been proof of it. Maybe I'm too bull headed to just stand up and honestly face it. Big difference between knowin' somethin' logically and emotionally. *sips from glass and snuffs out 9th smoke, lights up another and clears throat shiftin' in chair*I just hope I live long enough to make shit right on my end and so he knows I love'em too.