a strong home in a windy world
by stuart zitin

My father has always been nurturing, loving, and heartfelt in his relationships. He is one sweet man, so I didn’t have to experience the wounding, and even brutality, that some of my male friends did with their fathers.

While he was neither aggressive nor emotionally distant, he did not often show his vulnerability to others. To this day, after nearly twenty years of men’s work and some psychotherapy, I still work on asking for help if I need it. It does not seem to come naturally. Call it male ego, social conditioning, intimacy issues, or whatever, but I am aware of that place in me that just doesn’t always open up.

Recently my aging father fell and broke his hip, requiring surgical replacement. I have always been close to him, and now I spend even more time with him, as he approaches the end of his life. Even after the surgery and the sometimes painful recovery, Dad had a tough time acknowledging the pain—easier for him to label it discomfort, take a Tylenol T and be done with it. The interesting thing is, he had no choice but to ask for help, and he received it graciously and appreciatively. His vulnerability is now quite evident, and I guess he’s made his peace with that.

Both my son and I have apparently inherited my father’s high pain threshold. While I’m probably a bit more open and vulnerable than Dad, and my son Ari is less suppressed than I, it is still clearly an issue for me. How do I raise an emotionally healthy boy to become a strong and gentle man in this competitive, warmongering society? Unlike his teenage sister Rachel, 11 year-old Ari loves sword play and violent video games. He devours sophisticated fantasy novels wherein the characters gouge each other’s eyes out and such. He and his friends pretend to do battle, and occasionally wind up a bit bruised. Yet they are, to the one, gentle and sweet souls.

What is a father, or a mother, for that matter, to do?

While I have few concerns about the sensibilities of my wonderful loving son, I do worry about this culture we are raising him in. Even though women and men likely experience similar levels of stress, why is it the men who often react violently? There are certainly many informed theories on this and other subjects that concern me about the current events that shape us, but I am doing my best just to maintain a decent sense of self-worth, not wholly tied to physical prowess and financial success. I try to model integrity and loving kindness and to be supportive and compassionate with my family and friends.

My wife and I talk to our kids about the social conditioning inherent in our culture. We point out the inconsistencies, the mixed messages, the unhealthy stereotypes. We cite the inequities between men and women, between the haves and have-nots, among the races; we decry the prejudice towards those who are different. We want our children to be tolerant and accepting, to work for peace and justice, and we want them to recognize this society as biased and consumptive. We don’t want our kids to be devoured by the greed they see around them, but we don’t want them to feel separate or superior either.

Although my mom and dad have been socially active working on politically leftist agendas all my life, they are distressed that things look worse to them now, even than they did when I arrived in the early 50’s. I understand their point of view, but I can’t afford to share it entirely. My children are too young, too delicate. I would be riddled with guilt for having brought them into this world. Instead, I like to cite more open-mindedness among today’s youth. They question, like each successive generation always has, but they also seem more accepting of differences. They’ve been exposed to a new set of standards, less limiting than Ozzie and Harriet or Father Knows Best. They’ve seen the tragic results of bullying in schools, and are beginning to recognize the same in governmental policies. They are beginning to see the superficiality of reality TV, and the money behind it.

I am proud of my children and of my children’s friends. They look out for one another, they care about each other, they are coming to see what’s really important- relationships. I am grateful to have both my parents here in town, to bless my children with their presence, and to care take, as they have taken care of me. In a sense, I am modeling how I want to be taken care of at the end of my life, much as my folks have modeled for me their lives well-lived, with many loving and caring friends who support them in times of need. As my parents express appreciation for the love I show them, and I appreciate their love showered on my whole family, I feel well on my way home.

The model of love that my father has bestowed upon me, I try to repeat with my children. Although we fathers bond with our children differently and perhaps more gradually than mothers do, we can certainly do so just as thoroughly and meaningfully. When our unique masculine strength and wisdom serve as a paradigm of compassion, when we can show our authentic feelings, when we peel back our remote veneer and admit our mistakes to our children with humility, while setting clear limits without apology, only then will we welcome them into a more humane world that truly puts children first.

Stuart Zitin lives in Asheville with his wife of 21 years, and his two children, a dog and a cat. He has gratefully been attending a men’s group for 9 years here, and values a great sense of humor. He is a general contractor with 31 years of experience in building and remodeling, dedicated to promoting a healthy home and environmentally sound construction practices. [ stuzi4@aol.com ]