Oct 14, 2014
Life as a fatherless child is seldom uneventful. Some children suffer and cope, others never recover. I hardly noticed.
That’s an unfair statement. I did notice, but it wasnt until later on in life. Well, when failing at the things that were rightfuly proper of a father to teach, when the lack of guidance leads you to trial and error.. then I missed my father. There started my journey, looking for a father, or rather, for many fathers. People who could guide a young man at a particular time, always different men, sometimes quite successful, some others grossly off target, but never malicious.
I had one of those too.
I am writing this for an old friend. A friend who is a little lost. A great friend long ago tangled in a sea of deception or just plain bad luck. I am always reticent to give that friend counsel, I never thought friends should hand those out lightly. Rather, friends, smart friends, may share an anecdote, an unrelated random thought and it is then the other’s burden to interpret it to their advantage. Here’s to you, my dear friend on right side of the moon.
On Being a Man…
I am writing this while I look at a photograph. A tall slender man stands in an outdoor crowd. Some of them are paying attention, some clap their hands, some others look at their neighbor, the rest are just plain distracted. All sit on the grass. It is a sunny day… The picture of black and white is quite old, perhaps 50 or 60 years ago… troubled times.. times of thinking of freedom.
The man still stands.. an instrument in his hand which he holds high, evidently strumming it with great force and energy. A long beam of tired wood, sticking out of a rim parched with a hide membrane. He stands impervious to their little distractions. He is possibly glad they’re all there, surrounding him. Noting their sum is more than their individual contributions. They are there and that matters.
In the scene there are no fancies for anyone. It’s devoid of chairs, empty of tables covered with checkered mantelpieces offering food or drinks, they just sit on the grass and listen, ready.. those who are ready, to make a difference.
What is a man? what makes a man?
It is inevitable to ask oneself that question while looking at this picture. A man must definitely be a man standing in a crowd, instrument in hand, like a powerful torch lighting those around him. A phrase is often used.. “a man’s man”
A man’s man is different from a woman’s man. The latter is able to shine on the ladies, anyone can do that given the right circumstances, and the right lady… but a man’s man shines onto his fellow men. It takes a special kind of individual to achieve this, yet it is so simple and natural albeit strange that escapes us most often.
He doesnt have to be a singer, or a warrior, or an astronaut, but a simple clerk or a farmer will do.. its in the quality.. definitely must be in the quality.
A Man is Rigor. A man must be strong, strong to fight for what he wants, wise to know what he deserves.. not empty of humor, or compassion, for those who lack it are just recklessly dangerous, but still strong to stand up for his life and his project. A man must be strong. Not strong as a weight lifter, not strong as a prisoner who fights his way through jail, but with the moral rectitude of those who do not doubt their own steps, and those, who sure of their own conviction will not dismiss the chance of changing their own mind when life proves them wrong. And life WILL
A Man is Brave. A man is definitely not without fear, but fear leading to inaction is unforgivable. I always remember my eighty-some year old grandfather’s trembling hand after he was assaulted and almost robbed of the goat he was caring for… a milk giving goat for his aging wife and infant grandson…. his hand trembled while it still held the old trusty knife that served him well fending off the three attackers. But I am sure, while it was happening, those hands were made of steel, the steady protection of a man. A Man is Protection
A man is truth, a man is justice, a man shall not be afraid of looking weak, when weakness shrouds the right way, his way.. a man matures.. and sees the world with the eyes of those who have been beaten by it.
A Man is Intelligence… A fool cannot be a man, nor be forged one with time. The quick word and loose gaze are his sworn enemies, and at the same time, the slow wit, the man who’s silence is the only defence, whose lack of foresight and wisdom are his impediment… that man is worthless… for a man is a Pillar.. for his family and friends.. A standing stone that can be counted on, almost predicted in the sense that his mind, his heart will rule his actions, A man is control, over himself, and then over his environment.. his wife and children, a man is a kind father, a loving husband, a man that weeps, but doesnt wail.. is shaken down, yet not brought down, never demolished.. A man stands, always.. banjo in hand and sings through all the verses.. every single time.
all this seems so obvious, its almost a waste of time and electrons to write… yet its hard being a man, you know I am trying to get there.. whether I make it or not is indifferent. Im on my way. Like the caligraphy student, whose penmanship will never be that of the beautiful sample he copies incesantly, he will undoubtely be improved by the exercise.
You asked me for my opinion yesterday. I held it back. This is my answer:
i’ll be happy to know when you come across a man.
Your friend on the left side of the moon
