In the best film of last year, “Better Man,” when Robbie Williams is a boy his father tells him, “You’re either famous or you’re a nobody.” The father then abandons the family which provokes Robbie to set off on a 40 year quest to become a world famous performer racking up fifteen #1 hits in the United Kingdom and ultimately playing a concert at Knebworth for over 100,000 adoring fans. One could say that the driving force in Robbie’s life was to become famous in order to make his father proud of him so that they could reunite and Robbie would feel “unabandoned.”
In my workshops and in my books I say, “We become what we love and we become what we hate and both are inauthentic.” We imitate our parents when we are infants because we need them to protect and feed us. As we gain a sense of self there are numerous individuation processes that we go through in order to become our own individual selves.
Like Robbie Williams, some people idolize their parents and spend their lives trying to gain their parents’ appreciation and approval (often even after their parents are deceased). Other young people overcorrect and individuate too hard: if their parents are squares, they become rebels; if their parents are hippies, they become conservatives.
As I wrote in “How To Survive Your Childhood Now That You’re An Adult: A Path to Authenticity and Awakening”, parenting is the most difficult job in the world. It is difficult because parents are trying to instill mutually exclusive characteristics: self-regulation and self-esteem. And I believe that parenting styles come in waves: if one generation was emotionally withholding and oppressive, the next will be laissez-faire and think the sun shines out their children’s asses.
There’s no perfect parenting. All parents (save the rare sociopaths) are doing the best they can with the tools they have at the time.
Looking back this Father’s Day, which also coincides with my father’s 85th birthday, here are some lessons that I learned from him that shaped my life:
Think Different
Sometime around 1973, long before Steve Jobs coined the phrase “Think Different,” my dad and I were walking on Hope Street across from the Palmer’s shopping center in Springdale, Connecticut where we lived. I think that we were holding hands — not necessarily out of affection but probably so I wouldn’t run out into traffic seeing that I was somewhat of a wild child.
As we passed the local convenience store, Bill and Fred’s, through the window I spied a lottery machine and accompanying blue lottery sign and excitedly asked my father, “Daddy, daddy, can we play the lottery?”
Without breaking stride he replied, “We just did. We win a dollar every time we pass the store without buying a ticket.”
Like Robbie Williams, this one phrase provoked me to conceive of money, work, investing, opportunity cost, time and most importantly freedom — mental freedom — in “different” ways than many other people. For instance, when I was at UPenn the cost of each hour of class time (tuition divided by total classes) was extremely expensive — today about $140 for each hour of instruction. Thus, since the classes weren’t recorded as they are today, I never missed a class. Similarly, when I was in credit card debt at a 20% interest rate, every time I spent $20 I actually conceived of it as a $24 purchase to incentivize myself to pay off the debt faster: when everything you purchase suddenly costs 20% more, your desires are quickly curbed.
So if there is a driving force that has guided my life, it was born from my father believing (seemingly, to my young mind) that he won $1 every time he didn’t buy a lottery ticket; this inversion transmuted into my 40,000 foot view of language, consciousness, and mores, and my “meta” analyses of everything that most people consider to be “normal.” My ability and mandate to think different(ly) has guided my life.
No man is an island
My father kept a small piece of paper in his wallet that read “No man is an island”. This ditty by John Donne caused me to be fearless in creating community and reaching out to others. Humans are interdependent creatures and do not thrive without substantial emotional support networks. Recently my cat of 11 years, Helen, contracted cancer and had to be euthanized, which was absolutely devastating and heartbreaking; thanks to the empathy of friends at my local pool and in yoga classes, my grieving process was greatly aided. All humans need compassionate interactions with other humans. As I wrote in my first book, “Mirror neurons do not fire via text message.” No man is an island.
Take care of material possessions
With the exception of my time at sundry universities, I have worked since I was 12 years old, first delivering newspapers then at a local restaurant and then at Steven’s Luggage through college. If a guitar I wanted cost $600, that was months of working and saving money earned at the minimum wage of $3 per hour, which it was when I started working. Thus, I learned to take care of all of my material possessions, especially the ones with incalculable sentimental value.
Here’s a current photo of a sweater my mother knitted for in the 1980s:
Here’s a current photo of a scarf my grandmother knitted for me in the 1990s:
Here’s a current photo of a guitar that my parents bought for me as a high school graduation present in 1984:
Like most of my material possessions including cars, photos, and various memorabilia, all of the above are in near mint condition, some even after decades of use.
Thinking differently has had its pros and cons. I have lived such a non-conventional life that it has caused me to be alienated from swathes of people who — like fish that cannot see water in which they swim— cannot question the arbitrariness and contingency of their own assumptions and beliefs. And thinking differently has also endeared me to many fellow seekers as well as many readers, students, and patients.
So Dad, maybe because you taught me to think differently — to win a $1 every time I don’t buy a lottery ticket — and question all of the things that everyone including you and mom consider to be “normal”, I didn’t always understand how you chose to show your love for me over the past 58 years. Please forgive me for that. But I want you to know that I appreciate the things I learned from you and that they made me into the man I am today.
Happy Birthday and Happy Father’s Day!
Your son,
Ira
