Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Uff Da

I've come back to my father, thinking about what an unbelievable fool he is. Specifically, re my brother and his somewhat inappropriate bride. I've told the story, allusively at least. He called my brother's home, she answered, some communication problems, and as he hangs up he says to himself, but heard, "Fucking embarrassing."

What. A. Fool. There really shouldn't be any confusion about why NO ONE wants to be around him. I would break my fast of honesty with him if I thought it would do any good, and give him some frank advice about how to treat another man's wife. With utmost respect. With absolute courtesy. Lie, if need be. Because if a man has any honor or loyalty, an insult to his beloved is a wound that may be forgiven but will never be forgotten.

I may not seem entirely consistent here. I'm not saying there can't be disagreement, or honesty. But in existential matters, tread lightly. She needs to improve is one thing. She's bad is something else. It's obvious, and I don't need to belabor it.

And I've been thinking, sort of, about brothers. It's not thinking so much as a kind of feeling. Feeling my way toward my meaning, groping like a man in darkness. It's one of the functions of this blog. I've spent a bit of time recently around some young brothers, and I just saw some pictures of a young family, young brothers. Well, I was the little one in my former family, some years behind my brothers, who were 14 months apart. Early photos show them as happy and loving toward one another. Hugs and smiles. It fills me with dismay. My memory is of hatred, anger, tears, shouting, insults, selfishness, pain, fear, dread. "I hate you, faggot. I'll kill you." It was an anthem.

I do not understand it. I don't think it can be understood. What, accepted? Well, it was accepted. Which I do not understand. But there is a part of me that wants to take a rock and smash in their heads. That was one of the old sayings, actually. "I'll bash your head in." Does anyone say that anymore? Did they ever? Maybe it was just a family thing. A tradition, like lefse.

I've said it before, and it's obvious. About the need for gentleness with kids. Sort of a wasted lesson on me, now that I'm done with all that. Most people probably don't need to be taught so obvious a thing in the first place. Don't abuse children. And if one child is abusing another, stop it. Yes, maturity would extend these elementary rules to all humanity. But if wisdom were common it wouldn't seem special.

Don't want to go on all morbid. You come here for the cheer. And it is a positive message, after all. Be patient. Control yourself. Emotions are not a weapon. It may slow us down a little, being not quite as spontaneous or impulsive as we might otherwise indulge ourselves, but is it a competition, that we have to go so fast? Take some time, and sit them on your lap, and tell a silly story that hardly has a point except that you love your family. Of course you know this. Who doesn't know this? They'd have to be crazy.

I just searched for lefse. I haven't had it for decades. You can buy it online. I'm ordering some.


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