Crabtree Falls

Tuesday, March 29, 2022

Fathers and Sons


My dad died almost ten years ago.  In fact, if you charted this entire year, 2022, starting in January, when he had his first cancer treatment out at MD Anderson in Houston, these were his last months.  He died in October 2012.  I visited him nine times that year - long weekends, 6.5 hour drives from Asheville.  It was so worth it.  My wife Kade took these trips with me.  Each time we were down, I made a special effort to spend lot of time with my dad, especially one-on-one.  I'd help him feed his horses, we'd ride down to Dothan or I would spend time with him at the house.  Things like that.  Often we'd just sit and talk.  And as soon as the visit was done, I'd come back and make careful notes of the conversations we were having.  It was all very cathartic.  I was always very close to my dad.  We looked alike, enjoyed sports, and had a similar sense of humor and personalities.  People would come into the bank when I worked with him and say, "Mark, look over at your son.  That's you twenty five years ago."  He'd always agree and laugh.  You could tell it made him happy.  And I realized - maybe not then, but certainly in my early thirties, after I'd been traveling a lot and had time to really reflect - that my close bond to him and undeniable resemblance, and even being named for his father, gave me some leverage to branch out on my own, think my own thoughts and to just interact with him in a deeper way.  I knew I could get away with it.  

During my dad's last year, I continued this pattern of interacting with him.  We could always talk.  And sensitive subjects were not off the table.  It was the same with my mother.  I could talk politics, religion and family matters - the good, the bad and the ugly.  We agreed on a lot, and sometimes disagreed.  That's life.  One of my favorite topics to get into with my dad was the church and faith.  We grew up in it.  If you're from a small Southern town, religion is a big part of the culture.  Parents raise their kids the way they were raised.  And although there are exceptions to this, for the most part, people go the way their parents went, and do what their parents did.  And it's pretty much that way anywhere in the world.  It's not a right or wrong thing.  It's just what it is.  It's part of being in a group or tribe.  And in my case, I really took to religion - absorbed it, enjoyed it, lived it, shared it.  It's what I knew.

Over time, though, as I grew older and traveled more and more, I started to go more my own way.  I didn't discard everything I grew up with - that's very foolish - but I questioned a lot and discovered some new things.  As a result, I adjusted my life and views accordingly: retained what I thought was the best, and discarded the rest.  Traveling extensively and living overseas did a number on me.  Better than my university degree - by far.  My dad stayed on the more conventional path - the evangelical, fundamentalist one.  And one of the core tenants of the evangelical way is to make sure everybody else adopts that worldview.  If they don't, there's a scary place we could all go.  So naturally, if you believed that, you'd do everything within your power to make sure that message is shared.  With my dad - as with my mother (a bit) and some old friends (a lot) - our paths would diverge (even clash), and we'd have to talk about it.  I couldn't run.  I never wanted to.  Not my MO anyway.  I enjoy talking about different things, and I'm okay not agreeing with everybody.  I also believe in the importance of critical thinking and using the Socratic Method to test what we hold true.

On a visit in January 2012, just before my dad was to go off for his first treatment, we had some great conversations.  I am selecting only a small portion of one to share.  For a bit of context, it was always common for my dad to bring up church:  the importance of going, his involvement in it, whether or not I would go with him on a Sunday we were in town, etc..  That was the norm.  However, the fact he was seeing "the writing on the wall" regarding his prognosis, this emphasis on the church and faith was naturally more on his mind than ever.  And prior to this dialogue, he'd been mentioning it.

This is how it was written out shortly after:

We talked about the fact we could always talk with one another.   And I told him very clearly that I have always been open to the good teachings he could share versus substituting that for church.  I told him I would rather spend an hour with him than ten hours in church, and the feeling I get being around him is a great one.  He talked a little bit more about the Bible and his faith.  And I said, “Dad, you’ve always let me share my thoughts with you - even my gripes - and I let you do the same.  That’s a sign of a good relationship.  I know in the past you singled out [insert relative] as the example of someone having wrong views or being spiritually off-track, but one thing I have discovered from researching family history and actually talking with a wide range of relatives, and especially on that side of the family, is that there are a lot of people in our family who have views or beliefs that are not fundamentalist or evangelical.  Let me give you this example: I know you love [insert relative], and have always thought highly of him.  When I visited him at his house with Kade and my friend Dan a few years ago, not long after his wife had died and just a few months before he himself died, [this relative], out on the sun porch, stood up and said, in a jovial way,  ‘I can tell you one thing about [another relative]:  He will come over almost every morning with the paper and read some headlines out to me and we’ll argue over stuff.  But one thing I think he’s been right about all along:  The Bible is mostly just myths.’  He then talked about the social aspect of going to church, and that’s only what keeps him going.”  I said, “Dad, I know you don’t think [this relative] is in a place called ‘hell’?!?!?”  Dad looked off as I said all this, and he didn’t argue or take offence to any of it.  

My plan is to continue sharing some of the conversations I had with my dad during his last year.  It's part of my biography, and his.  For those children - certainly adult children - who are questioning some of the time-honored traditions they were raised with, I hope to show some healthy ways you can do that.  And for parents who are going through this with their own kids, maybe you can gain something.  And sometimes these positions are even reversed.  You could have a child who is die-hard about something (religion, political party, etc.), and the parents be more moderate and skeptical.  That's happened to me, too.  I remember being so gung ho about this college Christian group I was involved with, I had people say, "Sounds like you don't even think I'm a Christian."  And even in the midst of my genuine zealousness, that statement made me pause a bit.  And I am glad it did.  Ultimately, dialogue with others is good.  Hiding who you are is not a good thing (unless survival is on the line).  Likewise, just believing in something untested is not always a good thing.

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