SOME GOOD ADVICE
I am still waiting for my father to talk to me about sex and success, money and marriage, religion and raising kids. Since he died in 1991, I guess I don’t have much chance of ever benefiting from all of the lessons he learned in life. It’s not that he was a bad dad; he was just a quiet one. Even in the best father-son relationships, there’s an uncomfortable familiarity that inhibits us from talking like friends.
It’s not that our fathers have too little to say to us, but rather too much. Some of them fought the Nazis and struggled through the Depression. They loved women, lost women, raised difficult kids, met every manner of person, good and bad. They witnessed the trajectory of their own careers and lots of others; watched heroes, fads, and politicians come and go; learned what’s important and what’s not. They’ve been so many places we have yet to travel. But since neither father nor son knows where or how to start these conversations, we talk about cars, sports, or the weather instead.
The shame of it is, I
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