Shaping Experiences

In many ways my father was not very progressive. He practiced some of the worst of the traditional traits (not just when dealing punishment to children) of the patriarchal societies. It appeared to me, that he considered the fact that he earned the main income, as the greater part of the role he had to fulfil. He depended on my mother (and eventually we siblings) to look after the children. Yet, if my mother had not worked as well, the finances would no doubt have been dire I am sure (for one reason or another). I owe a lot to the work by my three older sisters, in helping my mother with all of us. They also had school-work, and later, one of them, university work to do, while having to help with we younger ones. But we all contributed in various ways, as we grew up to the household’s needs and tasks. What I learned in those formative years (don’t ask exactly what form I consider was formative), has stood me in good stead as I became an adult. Building a capable base on which to build the necessary life skills.

I know that I believe many of my father’s ideas on family came from his own family experiences. Particularly, where we had sidetracked (yet again! I hear you cry) from the tale of the anticipated punishment, I was awaiting in my room. Just before we return to that, I will first finish the current thread. It was his idea of family that was probably out of step with his situation. He could have embraced the experiences of his children and engaged with them. Sadly, in some circumstances he appeared to feel threatened and challenged, even when no actual threat existed. And then he would step back from that experience.

By way of example I look at the circumstance of his art. (see blog 5^th of June 2012) He had an interest, as we saw and had evidence of in the house, of painting pictures. While admittedly he was no great artist, it was obviously an interest he possessed. My next older sister showed early signs of artistic potential, particularly, in the field of painting. My father suddenly stopped. I do not know the entire reason why, but he did not pick up a brush again until many years later, when he retired and was living alone. He did not appear to see the engagement he could have had, and the potential pleasure in watching and assisting in her development. My sister is a very brilliant artist. Yet he separated himself from that joy of growth and connection. Did he not know how to respond? It would appear so. I have a family who between them can be described as creative in a wide variety of fields. He could have been a part of any of them (Our mother certainly engaged more with each of us and our interests). But for the greater part sadly, he seemed not to have truly engaged in either the opportunity, or the available experiences.

(Continued tomorrow)