My grandfather, the one I am named for, was one of the happiest men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. At the risk of sounding cliché’, his smile was always authentic and easy to cross his face. I loved his laugh; infectious, room-filling, and it sprang from somewhere deep inside of him. He had this uncanny ability of making you feel as though you were the center of his attention in a room full of people, no matter the size of the room or who the people in said room were. More than anything, when I was around my grandfather, I knew what unconditional love was. That feeling meant the world to me, to feel that important to someone other than my parents, my son, or my wife.
My grandfather died in December, 2007, not even two months before my son Dominic was born. I wish Dominic had a chance to meet his great grandfather, they would have gotten along like bread and butter. My grandfather took great joy in spending time with his grandchildren. In the heat of the summer an old fishing boat became a swimming pool, going out in the woods to cut firewood always felt more of a field trip than work, and instead of running to the grocery store for pre-packaged snacks and sweets we often would find ourselves out in the woods scavenging for blueberries and hazelnuts by the bucket full. I want Dominic to know what that kind of love feels like, even if it’s only for a short period of time.
My grandfather served in World War II, owned and operated his own lumberyard, worked for one of the largest lumber operations in Wisconsin, and helped to build the largest (at the time), privately owned banks in Wisconsin from the ground up. How do you follow an act like that? How can someone hope to measure up and not be deemed a disappointment or a failure?
I struggle with my own identity every day of my life. What are the expectations of me as a father, a husband, a filmmaker, or as an American? Am I providing Dominic with the right balance of discipline, love, and support? Am I strong enough to keep my small family happy and safe? What about my dreams, my hopes, my own wellbeing – when do they get shoehorned into the great circus? There are all of these demands and more yet very little makes sense when I try to organize them into a cohesive tapestry.
Part of the reason I am in awe of my grandfather is he knew who he was, what made him tick, what got him out of bed in the morning. I don’t know I have ever been that self aware except in one area, when I’m making a movie. He knew how to make things work; how to balance his life between friends, family, and work – and he did work, a lot. I look at myself and feel the pressure of his identity and legacy and it sometimes paralyzes me with thoughts of inadequacy and, on some level, self loathing.
I keep searching for that one thing that is missing, that makes sense, that proves that I am on the right path, that I’m not a disappointment to the people I care about the most. The more I search, the more complex, convoluted, and frustrating the search becomes. There are pieces that do make sense, I’ve written about them before – Michelle, Dominic, making movies – I love them all and they bring me peace, but they cannot be everything that sustains me. I need more, I need to contribute, I need to be able to provide, and I need to be able to participate in our world, our society.
What does that participation look like? What is it that I am so convinced that I am missing, either as an experience or as a contribution as a whole? For me, it means being able to go out to dinner and a movie, or go to a play at any number of theaters and pick up the tab once in awhile. Be a friend that isn’t so wrapped up in just getting through the week, getting by, and have something left to give to the people I call friends. With respect to my family; to have enough to be able to go on a vacation, a real vacation, not a spur of the moment, weekend on the north shore of Lake Superior that leaves us wondering if we will have enough for gas or groceries when all is said and done. Being able to exist and experience the world around me, the people around me, and allow myself the luxury to just take in and relish the moment without external stresses dragging me away, back to reality.
From a financial standpoint, we are doing better. We’re at least back in the black for the immediate future. Though it is a small achievement, I’m counting that as a victory, and right now we could use a couple of small victories just to keep us moving forward. From an emotional standpoint, I always come back to “what would my grandfather do?” What would he say? What advice did he share with me that I missed in all the weeks spent with him during summer vacations or fishing trips to Canada? What did I overlook during the Thanksgiving vacations spent hunting that could help me figure a path forward in this insane, always on world, that I find myself in? Maybe, just maybe if I run my hands over a few of the items I inherited in the wake of his passing, remember some of those moments my grandfather and I shared, I can start to piece together some idea of who I am and what makes me tick.
Regards,
John
Uncommon Karma 