I am not sure if this was the subject of a post in the original MF Blog, but I suppose I should post this topic at MF Blog, The Sequel.
This article from Slate online magazine is not about a father who was bad. It is about a father who was on the road reading his poetry, and how his son felt that loss of time with his poet father. I recall when the LA Times came to visit our home to interview me in 2003 as my novel was recently released (here is the subsequent interview article). My son was nearing ten years old, and he drew something on a piece of paper to hand to the reporter: At the top of the paper was written, in crayon, "Dad, Get Off!" And it had the international symbol for "No"--the circle with a diagonal line through it--for a telephone and a computer. Then, there was another circle with what was obviously a stick man and stick boy holding hands, but with no line through it. He drew it in less than two minutes and it was straight from his heart.
I did not understand at the time why he felt this way. I had taken him to Cub Scout meetings and Little League practices and games. I had spent much time, I thought, with him. But it took me years to realize the book was another sibling in the house he did not want. Our daughter was only five when the book was released, and was too young to notice, but he noticed my time, which was set for writing and editing after 10 p.m., and before dawn, lasting until time for work. And of course weekends where I did further research and analysis, and revising.
I had a second novel I wanted to write, but I realized I would have been relegated to another small publisher, who continually fail to promote one's books. Plus, I needed to get back to litigation, having been a corporation counsel when writing the novel, and having much more time to think outside of work than in litigation, where cases roll over and over and over in one's mind, and where one must prepare for depositions, court appearances and trials, which undermine extensive creative thought necessary for novel writing--at least for me. Ultimately, family came first. It is perhaps why this film with Nicholas Cage and Tia Leoni means so much to me. Yes, we moved, too, but because we had to move in order to prepare for retirement years, and still hold a home. Our horribly high medical bills over the years, as this early MF Blog, The Sequel post explained, simply took its toll on us. The film I linked to is about a guy who begins to realize what he lost when pursuing and succeeding at living a life of power and big money, and is trying, at the end, to figure out how to get it all--when the viewer knows it is not going to be the same for him, that those two children we see will never exist in his time line, and if he does pursue power and big money, he may not have the type of relationship he has been shown with his wife and children. It is not that it is true for all, and I happen to know someone who does have it all, but it is super rare. What I realized, however, is, if on the off chance I "made it" as a big-time writer, I may lose the family. It is what finally propelled me to forego the second novel. I never forgot "Dad, Get Off!" Plus, with my medical condition at the time, it was simply too much of an economic risk, especially if I had another heart "flare-up" as I called them.
When reading the Slate article which began my thinking and posting this, I also got a kick out of the fact that the poet's son never read his father's poetry. So, too, my children and wife have never read my novel. As my wife says, she and my children lived it. And that also speaks to what the article is saying, too.
I am largely against what I call "Hallmark" holidays, whether Mother's, Father's, Grandparents' Days, or even birthdays. My wife feels the same way, and our children have ingested much of this, too. My failure as a writer, my relative failure as a lawyer, and our inability to stay in California largely due to medical bills, as I was unable to earn a wage that could keep us in California, often obscures the fact that we have been, and continue to be, a loving family. Our children speak with my wife and me every day, and we live each day where we think of each other if we somehow miss a day to speak. It is the same for our family with presents or gifts. We are not about giving each other birthday gifts or winter holiday gifts. If my wife or the children need something or want something, we consult the bank account and if it is affordable at the moment, it is bought (often with Amazon points we accumulate, I have to admit). If it is not affordable at the time, we say it soon will be, and we have been right most of the time. There are no questions asked as we know why our son wanted a video game or our daughter a book or DVD, or if they need new clothes, or whatever. This way, winter holidays are about what to give to or do for others, not something self-centered. And birthdays are more about going to a restaurant or just spending time with us or with friends. My wife and I, for an anniversary, simply go away for a night or enjoy a dinner alone together at a nice restaurant. We do not spend time worrying about what gift to get each other.
I was so glad the Slate article was not about an artist who abused his children while creating loving art about his children. Instead, it was about something more profound, which is that creating art is itself a selfish act. When the art is good, it is a creation of something profound for the community at large. Spouses and children who live with artists, however, often have a hard time adjusting, and they don't need to read or enjoy the art created as they live with the creator and feel the work created. If the family relationships are bad, however, the art has, for the family, the air of hypocrisy and perhaps even evil. For the community, the art will stand on its own over time, and the public is rightly unconcerned about how the creator's family feels about the art. If, however, the creator's family relationships are good, the art remains, for that family, something out there...something continually luring the artist away from the family.
So, no, not Happy Father's Day. That is just Hallmark corporate talk. It is the day to day relationships that count for our spouse and our children, not some holiday hijacked or invented by a marketing department.
