Fathers and sons
Dateline, still Paradise. Late last night.
“My father,” Uncle Albert was saying, “was an anal pore – most fathers are. But he was a well-intentioned, just wildly incompetent anal pore – most fathers are. And he cared about me in his own way as most fathers do.
“My father,” Uncle Albert was saying, “was an anal pore – most fathers are. But he was a well-intentioned, just wildly incompetent anal pore – most fathers are. And he cared about me in his own way as most fathers do.
"What do you say when your father’s a narcissist, not to mention an ogre to your
mother?
If you’re on national television and you’re scared to death of
the old man, because he still outweighs you by a hundred pounds no matter how much you’ve
grown and how much he’s shrunk. You’re still scared to death – most sons are - what do you do? You burble along about how much you love him and you imagine aloud what a great
guy he could have been if he weren’t your father and a narcissist and an ogre
to your mother. And an anal pore.”
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| DT Jr by m ball |
I didn’t
say anything.
“Let’s
go to bed – help me up,” Uncle Albert said, reaching out. “I’m not going to
listen to this Gingrich fellow. He’s a sociopath.” He shook his head. “Bad as
Hillary,” I thought I heard him say; but he was swallowing his words. But when
I got him to his feet, he said clearly: “On
passe souvent de l’amour à l’ambition, mais on ne revient guère.”*
“La Rochefoucauld?”
He
shook his head, meaning “You dope! but yes, of course.”
I was guiding him down the hall to his room, wondering
as always, how he gets there when no one is with him – which is more of the time than
not. He stopped midway I thought to rest but turned toward me: “Thank God, my
boy, that you’ve never been ambitious. You think that’s a failing, but it’s
not.”
07.21.16
_______________
* People often go from love to ambition, but they
seldom return.
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