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I am my father’s son


Human infants are uniquely fragile at birth. Many animals, such as deer, horses, cattle, and elephants, are able to stand and walk within hours of their birth. Other animals, like dogs, cats, and bears, are born naked and blind, but grow quickly and reach maturity in a year or two. Because humans have such an extended childhood, the bonds between parents and children are far more developed and far more important than in most animals.

In this issue, we feature stories that explore this bond. We begin with Venkat Srinivasan’s look at undocumented African immigrants and the sacrifices these parents make for their children in Skilled undocumented workers in New York City. Bob Lee shares his reflections on fatherhood in the wake of the birth of his second child in Fatherhood = salvation. We also get a look at the life of a mother and son who live on the streets of Hanoi, Vietnam with Ehrin Macksey’s visual essay Simple happiness.

In Travels with Pa, Nancy Antonietti takes us with her as she accompanies her maternal grandfather back to Sicily for the first time since he left at 16. Colin Wilcox shares three poems in his collection Landscapes. Finally, Emma Kat Richardson brings us to China with her review of Susan Jane Gilman’s Undress Me in the Temple of Heaven.

Of course, as with all things, there are exceptions to the rule of the nurturing parent. For every story of sacrifice, there is another story of abuse and neglect. Some children find the world to be a frightening, abusive place, and their mothers and fathers to be the source of many of these problems. Because their first relationship, their attachment to their parents, is so dysfunctional, every subsequent relationship they form is often also dysfunctional. In this way, abuse and neglect become a recurring issue and are passed down from generation to generation. It is a reminder of just how important the bonds between a parent and child really are.

I am a writer/editor turned web developer. I've served as both Editor-in-chief and Technical Developer of In The Fray Magazine over the past 5 years. I am gainfully employed, writing, editing and developing on the web for a small private college in Duluth, MN. I enjoy both silence and heavy metal, John Milton and Stephen King, sunrise and sunset. Like all of us, I contain multitudes.

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Photo Essays

Simple happiness

A mother and son in Vietnam.


Vietnamese culture dictates that when a man and a woman get married, the wife leaves her own family behind and relies on her husband for security and support. If the husband no longer is able to provide shelter and food for his wife, his extended family is responsible for taking her in.

But cultural norms can be malleable depending on circumstance. When Ly Thi Mui’s husband went into psychiatric treatment, her in-laws blamed her for their son’s mental problems. Instead of supporting Mui, her husband’s family kicked her out of their home.

Mui and her son, Pha, have been living on the streets of Hanoi, Vietnam since 2002.

Even though Mui and Pha face many difficulties and have very little means to survive, they try to keep a positive outlook on their life together. They find happiness in the love and companionship they offer each other.

Photographer Ehrin Macksey followed Mui and Pha in June, 2007, capturing their lives on the streets. The following photo essay documents their moments of happiness and struggle.

In 2009, Mui reunited with her husband, and the family now lives in a house near the Red River. Mui and Pha continue to play in the river, and are much happier and healthier than they were before.

[Click here to view the slideshow]

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Commentary

Fatherhood = salvation

What my children gave me.


 

Before my first son Seth was born in 2006, a friend told me, “You’ll be sleep-deprived until he reaches age four.” Then I heard this gem from a coworker: “Forget about getting back into shape because you won’t have time for yourself until he leaves for college.”

Of all the things I read and heard as I prepared for fatherhood, those are the two I remember most distinctly. So far they are both somewhat true, although sleep and exercise have steadily improved over the past two-and-a-half years.

That may change again because my wife just delivered our second son, Avery, this week. What little pockets of rest and energy I’ve been able to find are now being consumed by round-the-clock care for the infant while trying to entertain a hyperactive two-year-old on the verge of potty-training.

Don’t get me wrong. I am ecstatic to be a father. I let my wife Cara know early on that I was ready as soon as she was. I had a late start — Seth was born shortly after I turned 35 — and I felt that I only had a limited amount of time to establish a family while I was still relatively young and spry.

We’ve just returned from the hospital with Avery, and it’s amazing how much less stress there was this time. Maybe we were just very fortunate, but I think a little more experience at parenting has to be partly responsible. Not as many mysteries and fears fill your mind when you’ve already been through a 25-hour labor. This one was 16 hours — still no picnic — but with considerably less drama.

Now that I’ve been through these life-altering events twice, I’ve made three discoveries that I never saw in parenting books or on TV (disclaimer here that most men, I’m fairly certain, do much less studying and preparation before having children than women do):

  1. The respect for your wife grows tremendously. No matter how much you love her or appreciate what she does for you, you may have no idea about her toughness until you see her give birth. And the result of her physical sacrifice is the greatest gift anyone will ever give you. How can you not grant her due props for that?
  2. Your selfishness and poor time management skills come into clear focus. Everyone needs “me-time,” but when you have young children, any time you spend on things just for you is time not spent with them. Whatever your guilty pleasure — golf, TV shows, computer games, etc. — you may continue doing them but acutely aware your children are wishing you were with them. This is especially true on weekdays when you’ve already spent most of your waking hours at work, and the window to spend time with your children is extremely narrow. You could wait until they nap or sleep at night, but that may involve more planning or later nights than you have energy. Balancing selfishness with my children’s needs is an ongoing battle, at least for me.
  3. You no longer doubt or worry so much about past decisions. Let’s face it: If things hadn’t happened exactly as they did, you wouldn’t have these children who mean the world to you just the way they are. If you had made different choices — in relationships, jobs, or virtually anything affecting the course of your life — you would not have ended up with these unique, unbelievable bundles of joy.

This last realization was, by far, the most profound for me. It washed away so many “what-ifs” and regrets about my past. Having that peace of mind was an unexpected relief after many years of second-guessing career paths and beating myself up over failed relationships. For someone who has struggled with depression throughout his life, this was a much-needed calming influence.

Even though I may be sleep-deprived for the next few years and may never get back into shape, I am finally happy on a consistent basis. In addition to my wife, I have two sons who give everything in my life much more purpose and meaning.

Some may find those salvations in other places: religion, their professions, humanitarian work. But what makes me see things more clearly, what makes me strive to be a better person, and what makes me more fully appreciate the here and now, is fatherhood.

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