On this blog, I have been telling my
story a bit, having been inspired by the book To Be Told, by Dan Allender and by my friend D.P. and his
insistence that I take a deeper, longer look at my past. It has been surprisingly rewarding. I found myself filled with affections for my
12-year-old self. I never really thought
negatively about 12-year-old-Rob because I rarely thought about 12-year-old-Rob
at all. But, the process of remembering
and trying to again re-live the experiences has filled me compassion for the
younger version of me.
Much of what I have written revolves
around my relationship with my father.
This makes sense. My
self-definition is based on my identity ‘as a man,’ and the role model is my dad. I
have a great relationship with my dad.
It was what it needed to be when I was a kid and it has grown, matured,
and deepened as I have become an adult and a dad myself.
I am influenced by my mom just as much. She is as significant a figure in my life,
but the effect is subtler. I can look at
my life and the ways Dad has shaped me leap off the page. Dad’s fingerprint on me is obvious and,
significantly, it easy to describe in writing (and more writing and more
writing). I could fill a notebook with
thoughts of how Dad has made me who I am.
Thus, I am inclined to write about that relationship.
The raw material of my life drawn from
my Mom’s influence is every bit as much me; I just not have given it as much
thought. Recently that changed. My family – wife, kids (12, 7, 5) and me –
were on vacation, driving in the minivan, the movie Frozen playing. As the
driver, I could not watch, but I could listen, and Frozen is as much about the music as about the dialogue. As those songs play and I pictured the film I
felt a deep connection.
It seemed odd. Frozen is
the story of the relationship between two sisters. I have a sister, but I am a brother. I have a daughter, but only one. The others are boys. I have no direct connection to
sister-to-sister dynamics. Why did this
animated film touch the deepest part of me?
It is because of mom.
Of course the film has nothing to do
with mother-son relationships. However,
one of the ways my relationship with my mom flourished is in our love of film
and our love of musicals and especially our love of films set to music.
About
15 years ago, when I was still single, my parents came to visit me in
Arlington, VA and the three of us when to see Camelot at the Kennedy Center.
We were all excited about dressing up in fine clothes and riding the
Metro from the Pentagon to downtown. Mom
was so giddy she teared up. I did not
but I recognized her emotion and shared it though I did not express it the same
way. More recently we gathered with the
family at my parents’ house to watch Nanny
McPhee Returns. I was thankful for
the darkened basement because this time my moist eyes betrayed my emotional
nature.
Afterward,
I admitted I had cried. My stoic Father
dismissively said, “Oh, I knew that was how the movie would end.” My mother was right there crying with
me. I don’t understand about myself. I had seen Nanny
McPhee Returns about five times. In
prior viewings, I had not emoted. Why
now? My mom had seen Camelot previously. Why was that night
so special for her?
The
answer comes back to how listening to Frozen
brought me awareness. Each
presentation – Frozen, Camelot, and Nanny McPhee Returns, as well as many others – is a beautiful story
presented by true artists of film, stage, and music. My mother gave me my deep appreciation for
the genre of the musical. My brother and
sister share it as well. And our dad
likes musicals well enough. But my love
for the musical is a gift my mother gave.
I
remember many years ago a friend of mine said, “I don’t musicals. In real life people don’t spontaneously break
into song.” I think my mother would say,
“They should.” I agree. And when the story of her life is written,
the only genre that would fit is the musical.
Maybe
my sister can take that up as a project … Christy, what do you think?
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