The fathers we’re given, and the fathers we choose.
Having a balanced upbringing is important, though no family is perfect; we often lay out the image of a better version of ourselves out to the public.
Speech patterns change, behaviour becomes more appropriate — parents seem a lot more civilised.
It’s a social construct we must conform to, because no family wants to be seen as idiosyncratic — the leeks visible to the outside world.
“What happens in the family, stays in family” — much like in Mario Puzo’s The Godfather.
Godfather has a special meaning, especially when you’re a young individual who has no sense of purpose or what it means to have responsibility.
We seek out, and search, as we grow into the mould we’ve built for ourselves.
We’re lucky, if offered both — parents that are stable and a mentor that compliments them.
I’m lucky to have both.
Grateful for it.
I was often told, the best friend a parent can have is when their children become adults; I’ve found this to be true.
I wasn’t as close to my parents, nor did I relate to them much when I was young.
Growing up, I’ve grown to admire their effort and wisdom.
Yet, there is always the sense that the mentors I sought, mentors who saw something in me — motivated me to pursue some thing I didn’t much think was worthy of pursuing, were different to the influence that I saw in my parents.
The father that I am born with, is a kind man, a gentle man, a very intellectual man, very well respected, and one who comes from humble beginnings.
My Mentor and Godfather, is a recluse, he reads, his room is often dark, his office usually does not notice his comings and goings, and largely remains anonymous as he moves through a crowd — yet he’s a man of influence and is well-respected.
My father is an open-man, he’s funny, he’s calm, he’s a provider.
My Godfather, is rough around the edges, straight forward, tough, and often perceived as rude.