Saturday, March 17, 2012

Scraps and fragments

I reflected this afternoon on how hard it is for me to make other people do things -- how hard it is to make myself step in to push other people into doing things, including things that they really ought to do anyway even without being pushed. It's why I'm only marginally effective when I have to manage other people, in my professional life: I do best when I can operate on my own, or when I can hire people who don't need to be managed. It's why I would never rate myself higher than middlingly-effective as a father, for all that I think it's the most important task I have ever tackled. I just don't succeed in doing a better job of it than that (though I wish I did). And this in turn is one of the many reasons that I am so interested in shipping the boys off to boarding school: I recognize my own limitations as a parent, and so I rather hope to subcontract the job out to qualified professionals.

It has always been a huge irony, therefore, that Wife -- who always has to have everything just so -- accuses me of being "controlling". Meshugge.
__________

"You'll find that the only thing you can do easily is be wrong, and that's hardly worth the effort."
-- The Mathemagician of Digitopolis, quoted in
Norton Juster's The Phantom Tollbooth, p. 198


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"YOU ARE WISE TO KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN AT ALL TIMES."
-- from my fortune cookie with dinner tonight

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I gave up drinking all alcohol as of Ash Wednesday this year. We're not Catholic, but I figured it would be good for me to cut it all out till Easter. That's a nice round span of time, and I also figured that if I couldn't, that might be a problem. Well, I've stuck to it: not a drop since Tuesday the night before. But somehow I have put on four pounds since then.

But boy it sure would be nice in the evenings or late at night. Maybe I had better go to bed now, before I change my mind. (sigh)

On lying, part 9 concluded (I guess)

After my last installment, I suppose I should wind up. Friday afternoon came and went. I drove Son 2 home from school. He didn't say anything, and in fact put his seat back and pretended to be asleep the whole ride. But I saw that his eyes were open. He was just waiting for what I might say. I had no idea what to say, really, so I didn't. I patted him on the shoulder, and when we got home I told him I love him.

D thinks that sending him to boarding school is still the right thing to do. Or well, ... actually I can't quite tell what D thinks because she is using way too many words to express it. But I think that's what she said. She thinks that the few times Son 2 lies, it's because he feels overwhelmed or out of his depth, unable to measure up to some standard he thinks he is supposed to meet but can't. I don't know ... it sounds logical but I have a little trouble grabbing hold of it to do anything useful with the idea. She also thinks I was a damned fool for asking Son 2 if he sees Wife or me lying and cheating, because D is convinced that Son 2 sees pretty much everything. Maybe she's right.

She also said lots of other things that really irritated me and aren't at all germane to the current topic, so I won't bother quoting either of her two e-mails on the subject.

This is the way our crisis ends, not with a bang but a whimper. (with apologies to T. S. Eliot.)

Friday, March 16, 2012

Thoughts on failure 3, Tony Webster

A while ago, D sent me a copy of Julian Barnes's recent novel The Sense of an Ending. Finally yesterday afternoon I started to read it, and I finished it last night: not quite in one gulp, but almost. At one point a little over halfway through, the narrator, one Tony Webster (now in his sixties, at least), muses as follows:
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I remember a period in late adolescence when my mind would make itself drunk with images of adventurousness. This is how it will be when I grow up. I shall go there, do this, discover that, love her, and then her and her and her. I shall live as people in novels live and have lived. Which ones I was not sure, only that passion and danger, ecstasy and despair (but then more ecstasy) would be in attendance. However... who said that thing about "the littleness of life that art exaggerates"? There was a moment in my late twenties when I admitted that my adventurousness had long since petered out. I would never do those things adolescence had dreamt about. Instead, I mowed my lawn, I took holidays, I had my life.

But time ... how time first grounds us and then confounds us. We thought we were being mature when we were only being safe. We imagined we were being responsible but were only being cowardly. What we called realism turned out to be a way of avoiding things rather than facing them. Time ... give us enough time and our best-supported decisions will seem wobbly, our certainties whimsical.
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Sweet dreams.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

On lying, part 9 cont'd: the next morning

So the next morning – after all this – I tried to talk to Son 2 as I drove him to school.

Hosea: What does it feel like when you lie or cheat?

Son 2: [silence]

Hosea: Seriously, what does it feel like? Is it good, like ‘Hey, I got what I wanted?’ I mean, if you get away with it …?

Son 2: [after a long silence] Well obviously it doesn’t feel good.

Hosea: Do you mean that it feels "Meh" – bland, indifferent – or that it feels bad?

Son 2: It feels bad.

Hosea: Then why do you do it? I mean, dropping a heavy weight on your toes feels bad, so you don’t do it. Stabbing yourself feels bad, so you don’t do it. Eating chocolate feels good (or tastes good) so you do do it. I get that. But why do something that feels bad?

It was a slow and fairly unsuccessful conversation. He challenged why I should be “interrogating” him, but of course I explained that it’s part of my job as his dad … also that I’m genuinely afraid (as a fellow human being who has to share the planet with him) where this could end up. He explained that he did it because he was “so far behind” in the game – at the time his score was neck-and-neck with Wife’s – and I had to ask, So what? Who cares? It’s only Scrabble, for Pete’s sake! Is trading away your integrity worth that? I admitted that I could think of one or two occasions when it is appropriate to trade away your integrity: for example, if the Gestapo is pounding on your door asking if there are any Jews hiding in the attic, you should say No even if there are. But if the stakes are less than that? If all you stand to lose is a game … or money … or that kind of thing? Those things are trash, they’re a joke, they can’t be taken seriously. Trading your integrity for something like that is a losing proposition any way you look at it.


As an aside: At this point I expect my readers to cock a quizzical (or critical)
eye at me. Just how transparent do I want to pretend we should all
be? Am I even paying attention to what I am saying? Yes, of course I
am aware that my own personal behavior doesn't exactly match what I am telling
Son 2 in the easiest and most obvious way. If you want to be charitable,
you can call
my fuller thoughts on the subject "nuanced" or "layered"; another way to describe them might be "self-serving and hypocritical." And actually, I'll get
there in a minute, ... sort of. Let me go on.
He disagreed with my putting money on the list, but I was firm that it belonged there. Beyond a certain threshold level, more money does not mean more happiness; and when you die, as the saying goes, you can’t take it with you. (Whereas I think there is at least a possibility that you can take with you the virtues of a life well-lived. But that’s another conversation.)

I asked him, Do you see us – Wife and me – cheating at things and getting away with it? In other words, I asked him, am I saying one thing and doing another? If yes, then of course my actions – our actions (including Wife's) – speak louder than any words. And if you think I’m being a hypocrite, I added, go ahead and tell me: I won’t punish you for it. Feel free to let me know. Of course this was a dangerous gambit. I don’t know how much he knows about me and D; I suspect he knows
a lot more than he’ll ever tell about Wife and her love life. But if that’s the case, I wanted him to say so. If he thought I was being a hypocrite – or blind – let him throw it in my face and I’d deal with it. Better to know exactly how I am setting a bad example (or she is) and answer the charge straight up and honestly than to have him write off everything I’m trying to say here as just words. And while I didn’t know what I would say, I was prepared for the possibility that he might bring up any of the places where either Wife or I have failed to be perfectly transparent. But it was that important.

He didn’t. He finally weasel-worded a statement that he couldn’t speak for what we would do in the future but he wasn’t seeing us cheat today and get away with it. I don’t know if he meant that (so that the weasel-wording was intended to palliate the shame the admission could have caused him) or if that too was a lie (in which case the weasel-wording would have been meant to make it not-quite-so-much of a lie). But that’s what he said. And I did ask him, … why should we send him to boarding school, if this is the kind of person he is choosing to grow into? (I emphasized that he has the possibility to choose differently today, but that it will be a lot harder to choose differently 20 or 30 years from now. As the twig is bent, so grows the tree.)

And he told me he didn’t have an answer for me right now. He wanted to think about it. I asked him to get back to me no later than the drive home tomorrow (Friday), because I know that without a deadline the words “I’ll get back to you” can easily morph into “Never.” I don’t know whether he will have anything to say, or what it will be. And I don’t know what we are going to do about boarding school. By the time I dropped him off at school, I was very troubled.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

On lying, part 9: cheating at Scrabble?

It's late. I'm tired. This isn't going to be all thought out or even terribly coherent, probably. But I want to get something on paper (er ... into electrons) tonight while it is fresh.

Wife's birthday. Ironically it was her week to make dinner. Nice dinner, cake afterwards, and then "How about we do something fun together instead of just playing computer games or going to bed? How about Scrabble?"

We get it all out, set up, I go first. We've gone around three or four times, and Son 2 gets a shockingly good score by playing on a triple-word score, but his word includes a blank tile. Wife has already played a blank tile. And I see in my tray that I have a blank tile. But a Scrabble set comes with only two blank tiles. As Maxwell Smart once said when he and the bad guy both turned over aces of spades at the same time, "Either this is a pinochle deck, or one of us is cheating."

It was Son 2. That "blank tile" was really an "L" played face down. We packed in the game. Son 2 brushed his teeth and went to bed. Wife went to bed. Honestly I'll go to bed pretty soon.

But shit! Where did he learn to cheat like that? (A second issue is, Who the hell cheats at Scrabble, of all things? But that's putting the indignation on the wrong point.) It's not the first time, either. I've caught him lying ... not often, but it's happened. His perfect mimicry of emotional affect, which is to say his gift for emotional simulation, makes him a master at emotional dissimulation and manipulation. He can make you believe that he is anyone, and that he is feeling anything. It is scary.

And I start wondering, ... why are we planning to send him to private school next year? OK sure, part of it is to get him out of the way so Wife and I can split up. Part of it, as he told one school in his interview (when the headmaster asked him point-blank if boarding school was his idea or if his parents were just trying to get rid of him), is that, in his words, "I want to escape." Right, got that. And I'd like to help him. And part of it is that I truly believe high school is the time when your heart is most trainable, the time when it is most susceptible to being oriented towards the highest and the best, the time when moral education is most critical. Sure, it's important to train your mind too, but that continues on into university. The thing is, if you aren't a gentleman by the time you enter university, you won't be when you leave either. High school makes gentlemen -- I mean the word in an ethical and gender-neutral sense -- or else cads, scoundrels, or easy-going unresisting mediocrities. And truly, that's the most important part of education, isn't it? If your heart is right, if your character is sound, if you can rely on a well-earned self-respect, then there's always more time later to train your mind more and more. But if your heart is wrong and your character is unsound ... why bother? Honestly then it's better if your mind remains untrained, because I'd rather that the thieves and swindlers in society be too dumb to get away with it.

So what about Son 2? I've seen him lie before, I've seen him manipulate people emotionally, and while I've told him it's wrong I've also told myself afterwards to let it go rather than to obsess about it. I've tried to think of suitable punishments, and sometimes I've succeeded, but maybe all he has learned is that it is wrong to get caught. I can't tell. But someone who will lie about little things, will lie about big ones. I learned that by living with Wife and realizing that I knew all her crazy lying and cheating was there from the beginning. Someone who will cheat at little things, will cheat at big ones. There is no way it will ever just be about Scrabble.

Boarding school ain't cheap, and it's not really clear we can afford it in the first place. If I thought he would walk out a gentleman after four years, though, it would be worth it. But if the battle is already lost and he'll walk out a clever, manipulative liar and cheat -- only better trained and more subtle than he is today -- then what the hell is the point? In that case why even send him? In that case why even fight Wife for custody? Why should I care? Maybe I should just escape, and to hell with them both!

That can't be right. A life spent manipulating others is a life where you can never relate to them as human beings, which means it is a life of profound loneliness. It's a bad life even for the manipulator, to say nothing of the damage he does to others. I love my sons, and I would never want that for either of them. Besides, my job as a father has to be to hang in there.

But something like this really makes me wonder ....

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Arrogant

I don't even know why I'm writing this post. It's selfish, arrogant, and delusional. Nobody's going to want to read it. But I guess that's the advantage of an anonymous blog: I can say things that are on my mind that show just how childish I am, just how full of grandiose hot air, and nobody knows who wrote it. I guess that's a good thing.

This afternoon, Son 2 and I watched "Lawrence of Arabia," which he didn't remember having ever seen before and which is certainly one of the greatest movies ever made. I can't watch the movie at all without being deeply moved, by scene after scene. But my ears perked up this time at one particular strand of dialogue, as General Allenby is trying to convince Lawrence to go back to the desert campaign, the second time Lawrence tries to quit.



Allenby: I believe your name will be a household word when you have to go to the War Museum to find who Allenby was. You're the most extraordinary man I ever met.

Lawrence: Leave me alone...Leave me alone.

Allenby: Well, that's a feeble thing to say.

Lawrence: I know. I'm not ordinary.

Allenby: That's not what I'm saying.

Lawrence: All right. I'm extraordinary. What of it?

Allenby: Not many people have a destiny, Lawrence. It's a terrible thing for a man to flunk it if he has.

Lawrence: Are you speaking from experience?

Allenby: No.

Lawrence: You're guessing then. Suppose you're wrong.

Allenby: Why suppose that? We both know I'm right.



Dear God, but I'm arrogant. I have to wonder why I don't get higher marks for "pride" whenever I take the "Seven Deadly Sins Quiz." I probably cheat on the test .... I do wish I had even a fraction of Lawrence's courage. Which I don't.









Friday, March 9, 2012

Son 2 in a nutshell, take 2

A couple of years ago, I compared Son 2 to Linus van Pelt, from "Peanuts." Sometimes it scares me a little how apt the comparison still is.



To be fair, he's in middle school and neither sucks his thumb nor carries a blanket. But the rejoinder out of thin air ... and its severity, and its preposterousness ... all these are spot on.

As I say, sometimes it scares me just a little.

(In the interests of strict legality, you can find the copyrighted version of the strip here.)

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Not under warranty

I'm sure I have mentioned that Wife has become ever more attached to her cell phone. She was late to discover texting, but now texts nearly all the time, to keep up with her various friends: Boyfriend 6, Boyfriend 7, Kitten (have I written about her?), and more. Her volume of texts has gone from nothing (a year ago) to sky-high (today).

And then today somehow she contrived to drop her phone in the toilet.

Ooops.

Just ruined her whole day. Why no, I don't believe any of it was backed up ... funny you should ask ....

(sigh)

Thursday, March 1, 2012

This could have been Wife


Did you see in the news today, where a 41-year old man teaching in a high school in Modesto, California, recently left his family to move in with an 18-year old former student? On top of all that, the girl's mother is trying to galvanize opinion in the community (and activity down at the police department) to have him drawn and quartered. It seems to be quite a drama, and you can read about it here. Also, the happy couple gave an interview to ABC News which is excerpted here:




This could have been Wife with Girlfriend 1.

  • Girlfriend 1 had been Wife's student when Wife was teaching high school.


  • They became close during the year -- close enough that (as we later learned) Girlfriend 1 had been writing erotic fantasies about Wife in her journal. But they never actually fucked until after Girlfriend 1 was eighteen and had graduated.


  • Girlfriend 1 wanted Wife to leave me and run away with her -- not only was she totally in love with Wife at the time, but she thought there would be something daring and heroic in Wife's flouting suburban conventionality to run away from her boring old husband with another woman.


  • Her mother wanted to roast Wife on a spit; but she was poor and an immigrant and didn't trust the system enough to try to use it the way Mrs. Powers is doing. That may be the only thing that saved Wife from arrest or jail time, because honestly Girlfriend 1 was too besotted with love and lust to be very discreet.


  • D strongly disapproved of the romance between Wife and Girlfriend 1. She said she had no problem with lesbianism for Girlfriend 1, nor with bisexuality for Wife. Way back when this was happening she was a little uneasy about Wife's chronic infidelities, but Wife always told her that she had worked it all out with me, so D shrugged her shoulders and let it go. But the power differential between a teacher and a student ... that bothered her intensely. Plus she has told me she regarded the relationship as inherently abusive ... that Wife was gratifying her own desires with no thought for how it would affect Girlfriend 1.


For whatever it is worth, Girlfriend 1 stopped communicating with Wife many years ago. I have to wonder if that will happen in this case too.

Anyway, it could have been Wife but it wasn't. Life continued on way more prosaically than that. Still, I couldn't help thinking about the similarities as I read the article. I wish I had something profound or insightful to say about it.