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Thursday, February 26, 2009 I found myself awake in the early hours two nights ago. Awake and feeling like I might not be returning to sleep for an hour or two. The world outside dark and quiet, the only sound in the house the periodic rumble of the furnace. Turned on the bedside light, picked up a book I've been plowing through. A goofy story I wasn't sure about at first, until it found its feet and the narrator's voice became reliably funny, the story interesting enough to hold my interest. That story took an unexpected turn around halfway through, slipping into a darker tone as the protagonist dealt with the death of her father and the effect that life change had on the rest of her family. All of it somber, heavy, difficult. Which got me thinking about the version of that passage I went through. They had me late in life, the 'rents, so they were on in years when I arrived. I never knew the old man when he didn't have white hair. And in some ways it feels like I never really knew him well at all. With that last sentence, I pause to consider how I want to dig into this -- because it's too easy to slip into facile blather when talking about people. We spend so much time pegging others, cramming them into pigeonholes, reducing them to easy labels -- which is how we're mostly trained to process our experience of people: find easy labels, classify 'em, and treat 'em according to our learned attitudes about those character qualities or types. And those learned 'tudes can run deep. Add to that our learned reactions to perceived behaviors, then add to that the potent emotions involved with blood ties and you've got a formula for hilarious fun. So where was I? Ah, right -- I was about to type, classify and pigeonhole my father. [this entry in progress] España, te echo de menos rws 9:45 PM [+]
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