in defense of [my] insanity

In defense of [my] insanity.
William Nolan
12/26/07 ff.

Einstein, the guru of relativity, said that to do the same thing over and over again and expect a different outcome is insanity. Einstein was a pre-eminent physicist; not so much a philosopher or theologian; nor maybe an ace of a spouse or parent either. Though, who am I to quibble with any master, one unquestionably a genius, no bout a doubt it way smarter than I?

But, alas, let me give this one a shot – because I am, by this definition, a personification of insanity. You think?

12/29/07; 0512]
Water. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. …. Drip. The same thing over and over and over and over and over again. If you are lying in bed, e.g., and you hear the faucet drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip do you not arise from the comfort of your slumber and rumble to the bathroom and turn off the water? The same thing over and over again; but you do not remain snuggled under your covers…. Or if the water is dripping over a ledge onto a rock, does not the rock become smoothed then dented then grooved? The rock does not remain the same…. Of if the water is dropping onto your forehead – not waterboarding, Chinese water torture. Does not the victim, the prisoner, surrender eventually?

In my little world of behavioral psychology, did not the rat and the pigeon and the child and the mentally retarded or college student subjects demonstrate time and again the consistency of the learning paradigms? How often do we teach parents to ‘be consistent’ i.e., do the same thing over and over and over again, to get the desired [change in] response?

Is not our Christian heritage a lesson in doing what is right, to act in accord with wwjd? And right does not change. The Word does not change - as messenger again for the Father, referencing the original covenants, the same covenant over and over and over and over again; renewed with Jesus and sealed on the Cross, glorified by the resurrection. Jesus knew what happened to the prophets – and he did the same things as they – did He get a different response? [did the prophets get a different response from their repeating the message of God?]

So, I do what I agreed to do. I appear in the driveway, on the outside of your mother’s barrier, and wait. I come at the appointed time, at the agreed upon place. And wait. And wait. And wait. I am present. I am reaching out my hand to you – ok, bear with me on this analogy… michaelangelo’s painting of God and Man in the heavens, reaching toward one another, fingers not quite touching. The one who must close the gap, especially now that God has also become Man, is the man. Man up!.... I call and your mother’s barrier appears at the other end. And call again and again…. I write – emails, letters, cards – and send to the slot outside your mother’s barrier…. Even to your email, yours, without [?] your mother’s barriering, with your barrier of the inbox, I send, and wait.

There was one Saturday morning at st henry. I’m guessing y’all were maybe four and six. We probably got to mass a little late because we were in about the tenth pew from the back – or John decided to pick that place as a change of pace, to test, maybe, whether it was really his choice as to where to sit and ‘his!’ choice would certainly not be his father’s choice. At the end of mass, a man who’d been in a pew a few rows behind us, a man I had never seen before [nor since], came up to me and began a chat…. “your children will never forget what you’re doing’ i.e., taking them to mass with their father as a routine thing on a daynotsunday. I have no doubt that you remember. I also know how your mother reacted/s to such things – opposed, especially when you expressed your cranky opposition; so unreasonable to take children to Saturday morning mass. I did not, do not, understand at all her opposition to my bringing you to mass. [I do not understand her agreeing to raise you catholic – before our wedding, before our pregnancy, even in her divorce decree – and yet not even fulfilling with you the Sunday obligation….] …. One weekday morning in the st henry chapel, after mass, the priest came up to us and asked me to not bring you to mass because you distracted [annoyed I’m sure] some of the other attendees. Blew me away! I could see how our being up front, where you could see and feel engaged in the Eucharist, would be a distraction to some; and when you squirmed or talked or got cranky your noise would be a bother. [I wouldn’t want to mention the actions and sounds of our devout parishoners that were distracting to me before or during mass….] I continued to bring you to mass with me; but we did stay at the back, behind the lattice work; not so distracting to the others; and a space shared by other parents [mothers] and their small children – could it be the presence of the father with children upset the equilibrium?

The same behavior over and over and over again.

And what insanity? What change am I pursuing by the same actions?
Mother Teresa said that it is our effort, our actions, that matter – the results, the effect of our actions, are in the Hands of God.

I have an obligation – to God, family, me; my purpose, each of our purpose, is to know love serve God in this world so as to be with Him forever in heaven. God made me a father; your father. God made you a gift to me [and me a gift, yes, a gift, to you.]. God gave me my duties to you in fulfillment of my covenant with Him. My obligation, therefore, is secondarily to you; primary to Him. And when the actions align, then it is best for all three of us. When the responsibilities to God are not what floats your boat then the disequilibrium at least rocks the boat….

Today.
December 29, 2007.
I am in my Thommy lounge chair, laptop on the pillow on my lap. It’s 0553. and I am writing to you. Creating a record for you/us. Making an offering to you. And shaping my life as well. Listening to the train rumble, the haunting whistle. Same ole same ole?!.

John is twenty. Thommy is 18. John is a college sophomore. With the illusion of on your own – cherish that illusion, relish it, revel in it. At the midpoint of my sophomore year I was at shadowbrook looking ahead to first vows – little did I know what would happen in front of the fireplace at the Berkshire community college. I felt free and independent and the master of my life, my self, my future – though somewhat aware that I was being taken care of – my room and board, my education, the cost of everything I did – not a penny did I contribute.

Thommy is 18 and looking at your last semester in high school and onto college. A senior [albeit in a new school – I divert not….]. living at your mother’s house. Still bound by your mother’s divorce decree. [are we bound by something we ignore, that we consciously violate? Are we bound by our word, even when we change our mind? Are we bound by a contract or decree even when we no longer deem it relevant or applicable or of interest? Are we bound by the speed limit even when we drive 80 mph? Bound? This is a word rich in opportunities – from a tigger bounding  to homeward bound  to bound to a tree  et al. Thommy is bound to the divorce decree in a similar way as you are both bound to your baptismal vows, not to mention your confirmation of those vows.]

I am here and you are there – and, in this writing we are bound. In our being father and sons we are bound. I am bound here to write you, to you, about you, for you. And how are you bound by the fourth? [skip the legal part of our being bound, let’s just stay on right, good….]

The same thing. My writing. My emailing. My posting on blog. [I promise, when I am ensconced in Nashville, I will put up a billboard so that you will surely know where to find my writings. And if the response to the ad in the Nashville paper some thirteen years ago is any predictor, the ole shit will be in the fan. A same act on my part followed by a same act by your mother? And you?

To lift off the bushel basket and let the light shine. Yes, a father’s communiqué with his sons is light.

So I write. I send. Same ole same ole. Insane to ‘expect you to respond differently.’

My doing the same, my being and, thus, doing at all, is change, makes change – makes things different, makes a difference. Even with us. Even to you. Even in you; for you; with you.

Does how you respond change the rightness of what I do? Should it change what I do? A mantra in the great debaters - who is the judge? The judge is God. Why is the judge God? Because he determines whether I win or lose, not my opponent. Who is your opponent? I have no opponent. Why do you have no opponent? Because what my opponent says does not change the truth of my argument. [sumthin like that.] Does how you respond require me to change what I do?

What would you require of me?
e.g., does the sameness of your behavior, expecting me to behave differently, constitute your insanity? We’re all crazy? Love IS crazy, yes? Being father and son is an insane relationship?
But I digress.

How is any of this a defense of [my] insanity? Doing the same thing over and over and over again and expecting a different outcome is the definition of insanity – therefore, Resolved: it is good for a father to be insane.

I remember father Murphy teaching us, in addition to latin and English, logic and arguments and debating [no I was not on the debate team; tho, in hindsite, it would have been a good choice.] I remember the philosophy professor at bama [from USC] teaching us logic and syllogisms. and sophistry . Not unlike geometry and QED! Quod est demonstravat. I wish I learned better to recall what I read, studied, debated, so much acquired and thrown away, blasé cavalierly without due respect not only for the value of the gifts but also for my own efforts in the acquiring in the first place. But I digress.

It’s predictable 

What is the lesson I wish to teach? It’s all about me! I.
I do what I do – the good that I do! – to fulfill my covenant with God. In gratitude for his love and grace. To be more like him; to pursue the perfection of him; to be with him, now and forever. [when I fuck up; when I do wrong or bad (not necessarily badly – I have done bad with great expertise; my omissions have been even more extraordinary! When I do wrong or bad, that’s my selfishness, my failure, ….]

e.g., when I park in front of your mother’s house waiting for you {to escape from behind her apron [aka walls to her house] and do what she and I committed for you to do, what is right for you to do}. I am there because I agreed that this is how we are to come together; we agreed actually – your mother agreed and we agreed on your behalf. I am there. As agreed. And wait. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twentyfive, thirty, usually at least thirty five minutes often an hour or longer. My car sits there – can’t miss the red mustang convertible. You can’t miss it. Your mother can’t miss it. You know I’m there even when you don’t look out the window or drive in or out of your mother’s garage. You know my presence. You know my insanity. I am there, you know, and you are different because of my presence, my fulfilling my commitment to you and to your mother for you. More importantly, I am different because I am there – I may have come from two miles away at the hedges to be there; I may have come from long island ny to be there; I may have come from Columbus or Dayton to be there - it does not matter from whence I came, I am there and I am there because we agreed it is good and right for me to be there for you and you to be with me. I am there and I am different because I am there. I am more resolved to do what I am suppose to do – I even get into a Jobian dialogue with God; or like the James Farmer character says in the Great Debaters [they see a lynching; he painfully asks his teammate WHY?! What did he do to deserve THAT?! He didn’t have to do anything. He’s a Negro. They lynch Negroes in Texas! … so, it doesn’t matter what we do? All this doing what you’re suppose to do, being good and all, we don’t have to do that because we’re going to be lynched anyway?! You can’t say that! Not you anyway, you can’t say that! …. I shouldn’t do what I agreed to do? I shouldn’t do what your mother agreed for me to do? I shouldn’t do what we agreed to do for you, in your best interest? [no, I will not digress into the absurdity of our secular courts, nevermind your mother, deciding what is in the best interest of our sons.] my fulfilling our agreement is insane? My doing my fatherly duty is insane? My representing to you righteousness is insane? Let me be crazier than a bedbug!

And I should not do the same thing over and over and over again because…? Why? Because you do not come out that door? I should not do the right thing because of your disobedience? Because of your recalcitrance? Because of your feelings? Because why?

I do the same thing over and over and over and over and over again and again and again and again. AND, not only do I expect you to do something different, I know that you are different because of my being there. Just like I know you are different when you receive my email or my letters or my packages or the correspondence left on your mother’s mailbox post. I know you are different when you see that bag hanging there. Even when you don’t take the envelope out of the bag – your mother does that for you? [putting your mother between you and your father: she does that; you acquiesce to that. And that is good for you? For us? What is her motive? Her gain? Not only for herself by being the barrier or the gatekeeper of communiqué between you and your father? What is her gain in your loss? What is her gain in your feeloughts? With whom is she building up a relationship by interfering in ours? But I digress.]…. Even when you don’t open the envelope. Even when/why you let your mother throw away the communiqués from your father. Even when you delete emails. Because I do what is right, you are different. Different better? Maybe not yet. But different potential to overcome the barriers to your doing right and being better, yes!

Bring on insanity!

And if you are not different? Sorry, not possible! You cannot step into the same river once. So, I cannot be doing the same thing over and over and over again. This is not Ground Hog Day.



It’s 0657.
I’ve been praying and hoping as I’ve been writing. Maybe that’ll count as my morning prayer.

I am tired but rested. [a good night’s sleep. But I have this cough that hurts searingly in my throat and upper chest. My eyes are burning – and the dry air in this place exacerbates both the eye thing and the painfulness of the cough.]
My ‘plan’ for today?

0830 mass.
Off to macy’s to have jacket fitted. And maybe buy a suit [a job interview suit!]
Edit policies all day
While wishing I were at the nolan’s party in ny.

I have to go back to my circus thingy and make a schedule for today and tomorrow vis a vis my three rings and my priorities. I most want to write [meaningfully not avoidantly] – my end of year, beginning of year stuff. Especially with unemployment on the near horizon.

Ora pro me.

I love you
dad