Thought I would write some make believe. Hope you enjoy.

I was feeling as cold on the inside as I was on the outside, but I have no emotional blankets or physiological heaters to warm me during this winter of my life. Since I was a young child, my parents had extremely opposing views on many issues and in spite of their attempts to make me feel comfortable with their differences; I always felt the pressure to side with one over the other.

My mother was a loving, caring and considerate person who seemed to always put others first. My father, a rough even brutish kind of fellow, believed life is just what you make of it. He was not one to express disappointment, sadness or any of the “weaker” emotions through tears, but rather he saw these emotions as opportunities to learn about ones self and the chance to become stronger through conquering these unbecoming and pointless emotional displays. He was a good man, one of great integrity and reliability. When anyone in the community had a problem, it seemed he was one of the first they would come to for advice or direction. In many ways, I envy my father for being so strong and able to always know just what to do on any occasion.

My mother loved my dad for this emotional uniqueness, but she truly believed he was missing so much with me, because he wasn’t able to communicate on a demonstrative level. I’m not sure I agree. My dad never seemed to miss anything because of his lack of emotional in tuneness. He believed strength, power and control made the measure of a man.

My mother never pressured me to be anything, feel any certain emotion or to have or not have a particular belief or idea. Even if she didn’t completely agree with a decision I made, she was supportive as long as the decision wasn’t self destructive or harmful to others.

I remember once, my mother brought home a kitten for which I could play and take care. My dad wasn’t too thrilled about the whole idea. He said she should have discussed it with him before doing such a thing, because he would have preferred I had a puppy. I had the kitten only for a few days when I found it dead a few feet from the road. The kitten had been hit by a car and killed, then overlooked with more disregard than common trash. For even trash, being blown in the wind is picked up and put in its proper place of discard. My life with a pet kitten was over just like that. I picked the kitten up and ran inside crying. My mother held my head into her bosom, stroked my hair from my eyes trying to explain how bad things happen in life, but it all has reason and purpose, even if we don’t understand it at the time.

When my dad walked into the room, he saw me crying and asked what happened. My mother told him a car had killed the kitten she had gotten me. He told her to come into the other room so they could talk. I could tell my mother dreaded the up and coming conversation. She held my head and looked into my eyes and said, “It will be fine. Sadness is a part of happiness.” She then stood to her feet and then followed my dad into the other room.

I heard my dad tell her she was going to spoil me and I would never learn to be a man, if she didn’t quit coddling me. She stood firm, “Emotions are something with which children must learn to deal, not ignore.” This made my dad furious, “Are you saying I don’t know how to raise my own son?” “No, no,” she replied, “I am just saying perhaps there are things that I can teach him that you can’t and it won’t make him less of a man but a better one.” When she said this, my dad stormed out of the room and to my knowledge the kitten was never mentioned again in our home. As a matter of fact, I would come to possess several puppies throughout the years but never again would I have a kitten while living in my parent’s house.

Please don’t misunderstand me. I love my dad he always made sure that I knew he loved me even though saying the words didn’t come easy for him. He let me know by the way he was always there for me. I can never remember coming to him with a problem or concern that he didn’t make time to listen to me and give me all the attention he would give one of his friends when talking about the upcoming Superbowl or World Series. He never laughed at my mistakes but rather worked with me to help me overcome them. He never missed a ballgame, Boy Scout meeting or any other of my childhood events unless there was an overwhelming demand for him to be elsewhere. Even then, it was a big deal when he had to miss and he always let me know just how bad he felt for not being there. I am sure most boys would love to have a dad as great as mine. I wouldn’t trade him for any other man I have ever known.

You see it was neither my mother’s nor my father’s individuality that brings my life to this point, but rather the compatibility of these two very different lives. This is the dilemma for me, because once again I am in the position of having to determine exactly how I feel and then choose one side over the other. It seems none of my decisions are based simply on what I want to do, but rather whose side will I take?

Most people have parents that tend to agree on most issues but in my case there were few things that my parents agreed on except to accept each other for their differences. They both liked the Willie Nelson song “Mamma’s don’t let your babies grow up to be Cowboys” but for obviously different reasons. Their incompatible but working union would have been great, even inspirational except that neither wanted to allow the other to take the lead when it came to guiding me towards the philosophical views of life and personal morals by which I would live my life. They were both equally concerned that I learn and adopt the values and morals of their own family heritages. It really made my life miserable in many ways while at the same time I have felt strangely secure in knowing so confidently where my parents stood on issues that many people don’t even realize exist.

For all its worth, I do believe if I could somehow find a way to survive the few remaining months I have before adulthood, I would be all the stronger for it and the cards which have been dealt me would give me a unique perspective by which I could better understand people that I meet throughout my life.

There is still…Oh man! That was too close! I can’t believe I dropped a loaded gun. I have been around guns all my life. How careless could I be? My dad has never quit reminding me about the dangers and responsibilities that those who possess guns must recognize.

If not given the utmost respect, a weapon of any kind can bring about endless and immeasurable hurt, and here I am holding one in my lap thinking about everything in the world except the fact that I possess this potentially deadly force. A stray bullet will cause the same destruction as an intentional one. I couldn’t live with myself nor could I die with any peace, if I accidentally caused the death of another person. Thank goodness, this mistake didn’t end with any such terrible consequence.

I can’t imagine the dreadful pain that would be brought with a misplaced bullet. The thought of a single round tearing through skin, bone and human organs and then still not accomplishing its deadly purpose, that is more terrifying than the thought of death itself. To lie all alone in a pool of your own blood unable to call for help or even commit an act that could crudely bring about some much needed relief.

I think I will just lean it up against here. There, that should be secure and safe until I am prepared to take that next step, if I can muster the courage to do so. I look at it carefully with much appreciation for the engineering and designing that went into putting together such an amazing piece of equipment. I am aware of the vast purposes to which guns have come to realize since the time of their invention. I can share the feeling of joy men must have felt when they were able to more adequately and consistently provide food for their families. The security a gun brought to those who were faced with certain doom, if not for the protection of this marvelous tool, which is able to equalize a vastly unequal situation. I also understand how something of this magnitude can push a person, who is already teetering the edge of mental breakdown, over the edge and into public awareness and controversy. I could understand how this harmless but still most harmful of all man-made things could deserve such great attention by the authors of our great and noble constitution. I understand how the issue is misunderstood on both sides of this great debate, this detail of my thoughts, of course, brings me back to my own backyard.

My mother believes guns have caused, by far, more pain and death than any other single or collective purpose. Then of course, my dad who has no hidden feelings about any political issues, believes even if you disregard all of the joyous uses of guns, the hurt brought about by the their use has, for the most part, been part of a bigger picture, a picture of freedom and independence. The majority of the deaths guns have caused are a necessary evil in order to provide and maintain the things we in this country so thoughtlessly and effortlessly enjoy.

My dad had a younger brother who was killed in the first Persian Gulf War. I never saw him shed a tear during that time, but my mother told me she had never seen him so upset about anything for as long as she has known him. I remember him standing at attention and saluting during news broadcasts when they would announce the names of the latest fallen soldiers. After the violence came to an end, he didn’t do that anymore, but still he salutes the picture of Uncle Chase in his Marine uniform often when he walks by it. I have tried to talk with him about Uncle Chase at times and when he speaks about their days as mischievous youngsters, his eyes brighten and his tail wags furiously but when he approaches the end… well, he starts getting angry and then finally looks at his watch and says he forgot to do this thing or that thing and then hurries out of my presence. I quit asking and he quit telling.

There is so much I would love to know about my dad, but I suppose my mother might say the same thing. She has always been one who could express her feelings well. I knew when she was mad, when she was frustrated, when she was lonely or when she was just emotional for no reason at all. I’m really not that perceptive but my mother would just tell me these things. She has never kept things bottled up inside of her and I guess that would be another point of which my mother adores my dad. He always listened to her the same as he would me. I guess he saw it as his duty as the father and husband, though I am sure my mother viewed it more as his duty as a member of our family. She always tried to make him understand that she wanted to be there for him in this same way, but he just never would talk or complain about anything that bothered him. It was his cross to bear, at least he thought. Of this, I am sure he was wrong. I wish he could learn to trust my mother and me so he wouldn’t feel the need to be so isolated with his emotions.

A family is a multi-input unit. Dad, I wish you could see this for what it is. Mom would love it and it would bring the two of you so much closer. I know you would think this is just sissy talk. Men must be men! Who else will do the job?

I think that is why I am here today and I know how today will of necessity end. I can’t be the kind of man you want me to be. I don’t see everything so black and white. I do respect you; because I know you do what you do out of conviction and not just years of tradition. Though I hold your loyalty to tradition with great honor. I know how much you wanted your son to be like you, but I just don’t think I am. Mom, will feel the hurt you feel, because that is just her nature. She always shares in the pain of others even if her own pain is more than she can bear. I think somehow by sharing in the painful moments of other people mom is better able to deal with her own.

She is an amazing woman! Dad, she is equally remarkable as you, just in a different way. I know you have never seen her to be weak as a person, but to the contrary, you have always respected her because she was able to stand up to you when she really felt you were wrong about something, anything. In spite of your overwhelming confidence you never intimidated that little 120-pound woman. Isn’t that what you really want from me? I hope you can realize what you have really taught me over the years, to be someone of courage and conviction, and not just someone who upholds the manly rituals of time. Times change but the principles you have given me to live by never will.

It is for this reason; I must allow this beautiful creature of God to leave my presence unharmed. I cannot kill an animal just because the men in our family have always been “Great Hunters.” I know how important it is to you to uphold this very important step into adulthood, but I just wouldn’t feel right about doing it. I am not opposed to killing, if it is to truly provide for you family, but I don’t see the sport in it.

I hope you can understand, dad. You know when I think about it, I guess you have always understood. I guess I have this fear that you or mom won’t appreciate my views when they differ from your own. I know that fear is completely unfounded but is largely due to the fact I love you both so much and would never deliberately disappoint either of you. You have both always made me feel so loved. I am so greatly blessed by the honor of being raised by such greatness from both sides of tradition and progression. I love you both!
Your son.