Month: January 2019

Oh, family dynamics. Aren’t they interesting? We all have different relationships with our family members, don’t we? In this blog I am going to write about my relationship with my father, something I never thought I’d be writing about, but here I am doing just that.

I’ve mentioned my father a couple of times in previous blogs. About him trying to thwart my dream of being a pilot and my desire for a college education and him standing up for me when my high school counselor said I couldn’t take English Literature class because I was not “college material.” Well, upon deep reflection, I realize now that my father and I did have some things in common, even though I did not realize it in my childhood. We did not have a great relationship, maybe, but I did learn from him at times.

My father was a writer at heart. He was a journalist most of his life. He was a newspaper reporter and eventually a columnist. He even wrote his memoirs which I only discovered a few years ago. After moving his family from Michigan to California he was a Hollywood correspondent for the Lansing State Journal, writing a column for years as a movie reviewer and a reporter of the Hollywood and celebrity scene. I wish I had kept his columns as I’d love to read them now to remember how he wrote. Oh, well, bottom line, he was a writer.

He did not enjoy having to cover gory murder and crime scenes as a reporter, but other than that, he loved his work. He was always writing. So, now that I’ve started blogging (the modern day version of him writing his personal newspaper column), I realize somehow I have the same urge in me that he had to write about stuff ( life, observations, opinions, etc.). It didn’t hit me until now that we had that in common. I guess I did pick up his interest, desires and motivations and talents (?), well, don’t know about that.

Although he did send us kids to church and Sunday school in my early years, he was not what you would call a “religious” man. He liked church because the minister was a big football fan and talked sports a lot. As for the religious part of church, I don’t think he was much interested. Not a big believer in God, as I saw it. I guess you would call him an agnostic.

Eventually, when I became a more religious person in my teen years, he probably had problems with that. And then, when after college I went on to seminary to prepare for the ministry, well, that definitely confused him, I’m sure. He probably also had a problem with me since I did not grow up to be an athlete and a strong sports fan. It’s not that I didn’t try. I did play football as a kid in the neighborhood and played little league baseball for a short time. But I was never that good, and sports was a big thing for him. I did go to a lot of sporting events, high school football games every week, Angels games (he loved the Angels and hated the Dodgers and had frequent contact through his writing with Gene Autry, owner of the Angels). But I was never the fanatic sports fan I think he wanted me to be. When my nephews came along years later, he was thrilled as they all became fanatical sports fans.

He sensed I was different, I’m sure, but that’s the way it was. You can’t be all things to all people. But, somehow, I did pick up this writing thing. During my elementary school years, I started a neighborhood newspaper which my dad occasionally helped me with. I enjoyed that, even going out and getting local merchants to pay to advertise in it. I remember in college, I had to write a letter to my draft board when I lost my college deferment and needed them to reinstate it. My college roommate was very impressed with my writing skills at that time when he read my letter.

So, like father-son relationships, there were good things and some not so good things. He was never warm and close with me but he was helpful at times and never cruel or abusive (except perhaps verbally). He could cuss and swear and unfortunately that trait was picked up by me and I really struggle with that to this day.

I’m okay with all of this. This was life in my family. This was my relationship with my father. It could have been better and it could have been much worse. I survived and I went on to create and live my life. It has been a good life and I am grateful for all of it. In the long run, it’s all good. Good lessons were learned along the way.

Wally

Tolerant is an interesting word. It’s defined as “to put up with,” usually. Or, sometimes to be “open minded, liberal, broad-minded, to endure,” etc. It can sound good, like toleration is good, a good thing, a good trait to possess. Yes, that’s how I’ve viewed the meaning of the word over the years. But, you know, I’m beginning to not like the term so much anymore. The deeper I go in thinking about toleration, the more I begin to dislike the word.

My whole life I have been taught to just “tolerate” everything. Tolerate abusive people, even family and loved ones, bad teachers, bad work environments, bad co-workers, bad bosses, incompetent “experts” and “professionals,” etc. You get the idea. To live a good life, just tolerate almost everything. Get along and just put up with whatever. Sounds good? I’m not sure that’s the best strategy to live the good life.

I think that I have tolerated too much over the years. I’ve played the game. Yes, I’ve gotten some of the “goodies” as rewards for going along and playing the game. But I think it’s time to step up the game and move beyond toleration. There’s a higher level than toleration. I want to see people live and function on a higher, more evolved level than toleration. Do you want people to just tolerate you Or do you want people to like you and love you? And if they don’t like you, let that be. But to be tolerated? Not really what I want. I certainly don’t want to tolerate awful, nasty, mean, cruel people. I’m tired of tolerating people’s sh*t and sh*tty attitudes and behaviors. And in today’s highly charged political climate, especially. I will not engage with some people who are a bit out of control of their anger, in my view of things. Tolerate hate and hate talk, no way! I will set “my” boundaries; you set yours if you want.

This brings up a connection of sorts to another aspect of life for me. Ever since I was a child, some people always thought of me as shy, a shy person. My brother-in-law, especially, drilled into me his opinions of my shyness as well as his perceived shyness of my two siblings. I won’t argue with that. As he saw it, the three of us were shy in comparison with others. We were definitely more introverted and shy than most people. More on the introverted end of the scale than the extroverted side. My point is that being a bit shy and taught to just tolerate everything in life probably didn’t move me along on the fast track to good emotional and psychological health in my early years.

But decades have passed, we’ve grown and moved on and accomplished things in our lives. At this stage of life, however, being somewhat introverted and overly tolerant of way too much crap in life and the world is not a good thing for me personally. I now realize that I need, I must, be more definite and adamant about setting boundaries on what I will allow into my immediate personal environment, or what you might call my “energy field.” So, yes, maybe I am becoming more intolerant of things that I used to give a pass to. So be it! I see this intolerance as being a good thing. I’ve learned my lessons from the past regarding being shy, introverted and tolerant and too accepting of sh*t.

I’ve lived a long and very good life. I’ve make mistakes. I’ve lived with not the best people at times and for way too long. But hey, that’s how life goes, right? At least I’ve survived and grown and transcended the muck to find a new freedom in life by being true to myself, my truth, and my God.

So, toleration is not my favorite term or preferred way of life. Like me or love me or don’t like me, that’s up to you, but tolerate me… hmmmm.

Wally