14-July-2007: A Letter to my Father (Chapter 3)
I dreamed about you again last night. You were actually gentle and appreciative of the task of cleaning up the house that
I was doing. You probably don't remember, but when I was thirteen you yelled at me one day—a propos of nothing I was
aware of—and said, Why don't you do something useful around here. Like pick up a broom now and then? I remember until
that time, that my only chores were things I was specifically asked to do. I had not known that I was supposed to improvise and I certainly
never had a clue about how to please you. You were critical of everything I did. So, in response, I swept the hardwood living room
floor every night after I got home from school.
To actually see you pleased about something I was doing, even if in a dream, was a revelation. You did give me a hard time (in the
dream) for not getting a written guarantee from the local roofer when he repaired the roof of the house. You always were good at
finding fault somewhere.
There are a couple of things I don't get. One: you never once acknowledged my intelligence. Yeah, I know I already talked about my IQ,
but that's not quite what I mean. I have frequently, throughout my life in many different situations, had people remark on how bright I am.
They seem to see something in me that gives them that idea. What exactly it is, I have no clue, but it is there. Even people I know only through
the Internet sometimes make the same sorts of remarks. It seems as obvious to people as the colour of my (remaining) hair. So why is it that you
could only see the "stupidity" in me? As I said, you found fault with
everything I did. If I brought home a report card showing 80% plus in every subject (except my nemesis: spelling), you would just snort
derisively. I clearly recall a counsellor we saw briefly try to explain to you that I was intelligent and had a brain and you yelling back at him
saying that he was full of crap.
Is it any wonder that I started to think that you were wrong and everyone else was right? (Though on a deep emotional level I still
believe that I am a hopeless failure at everything thanks to your continuous propaganda campaign—often re-enforced with a blow to my head.)
I know there are those who think that at age 61 I should put the past behind me and try to remember only the good times. The problem
is that I can't, because you are continually ridiculing me and popping up in my dreams. That's a reason I am writing the "letters" to a dead man: to
get you out into the ether and out of my head.
The second thing about you that I find galling is your assumption that you had the right to decide on my future career path. I overheard you
telling many people throughout my childhood and early adolescence that after high school I was going to join the army "to be made a man of" and
then go to business college. That was just so wrong for me. I was a dreamer with a strong creative streak. I wanted to study philosophy, science, and literature;
learn something about art and music so I could understand the "modern nonsense" everyone agreed was the current state of the arts—funny how I
instinctively knew even then that when people mocked something it usually meant that they didn't know what they were talking about. In short, I wanted to
study the very stuff you thought was a "waste of time."
In the end, did I really have any choice about leaving home when I was fourteen?
Military and business. The filthy words of the 1960's. A killing machine for profit. Global annihilation for political gain.
I have softened my position against the military over the years and come to realize that it is made up of men and women
who want to do good in the world; to take on the tough and dirty jobs. I had a conversation once with a brigadere general who told me
that the generals knew that I (as a former peacenik) was absolutely right; and many of them were hoping that we would prevail upon the politicians to stop
the insanity. They knew the terrible power of nuclear weapons and were realistically aware of
the consequences of their use.
But, the military is a victim of the political-big business alliance (just look at Bush administration's deep ties to Halliburton—public and foreign policy tailored
to suit the profit margin of a business.) I can't blame the individual soldiers or their commanders—and, actually, I never did. Many veterans joined our
protests and soldiers gave us subtle signs that theyr were really on our side. And I never blamed the American young men who fled the American military, sometimes, it
seemed, flooding the streets of Montreal—at least, filling the make-shift hostels, underground newspaper offices, and anywhere else sympathetic young
people hung out.
And, as for business, I now make an income from preparing income tax returns. I am very good at it. I wonder if that would please you? Or
would you be sneering because I am doing it for individuals rather than for huge corporations?
To thine own self be true. A nice sentiment (I think you would have approved of Polonius' words, though you would not apply them to yourself), but how to achieve that when struggling with such
enormous inner battles...where ignorant armies clash by night?