10.30.2012

Remains of a Man's Day

That haunting movie was on again the other day and, after hours on the road within the last few weeks, it hasn't quite left the brain. The other day the t.v. remote found the instinctive impulse to stop and take another peak, if only to remind oneself of the soft underbelly of a respectful, middle-aged man. It isn't quite the Halloween scare you'd think, but rather a mental numbness of another sort.

It has been over 20 years since I was dragged kicking and screaming to see the movie The Remains of the Day. Yet the image of Anthony Hopkins, Mr. Stevens the Butler, sticks in one’s mind. Although the character is a man of honor and dignity, he is, for the most part, alone and unfulfilled. Empty. It is a fairly dark image of a man countered by a hefty respect for long hours, hard work, and putting the needs of others first.

It isn't currently important, really, just timely. When the movie was released in the early late 80s I saw it and I understood it, but did not truly get it. Fresh out of college, not yet married, and just starting a professional life of work, I was still in the making. The movie should have been forgettable and unremarkable to the college self save for the fact I knew men like Mr. Stevens. I worked with them. They were former professors. They were the middle class dads of friends and collegues who grew out of the depression era influenced generation ahead of me. It is a bit of my own father, who devoted his artistic soul to a vibrant career in music to struggle with early retirement and only a handful of gigs to satisfy his soul. And it is now me, twenty years into a career of giving my talents and dedication to one work project after another and coming home to happily cook, chauffer the kids, and attend to all the elements divorced/re-married dads do.

The Mr. Stevens character tapped into the silence and the unspoken hush of most dignified men. His self reflection is not lost on me. It is the dark, tacit part of us men not often shared. Though it could be Halloween-esque, it isn’t really a scary depressing place at all. It resembles center stage of an empty theater with a single, glowing bulb. It is a cigar, a glass of scotch, and an hour by oneself on the back patio. It is fishing or driving in silence. It is being. Respectful. Contemplative. Alone.

Men don’t share it because the answer is almost too simple. Get into the game. Stay in the light. Just leave the darkened mind-set and let that Emma Thompson character know of your true feelings and life can be complete. Yes, it can. I have. And, I am immensely happier for making the leap and trusting again. I didn't follow the script. But...

Apologies if you have read to this end with no real conclusion to offer up. All this rambling makes for incredibly boring reading, I'm sure. Most blogs of note get much further in today’s on-line culture by loudly bitching about something. But, to mer there is a sense of celebration in the balance between a man’s light and dark. One thrives in this balance. And that is ok.

Although he wasn't a role model, per se, Mr. Stevens taught me something once. And it has become clearer at the end of this day.

10.03.2012

On the Eve of the First Debate

It would seem the majority of the people
Lean toward the two poles
Of mistrust and belief.
Grudgingly polarized
Between disenchantment and hope.
Disillusionment controls,
Yet, belief maintains the upper hand
In the calamity that is today.
Politics is a trench war run via circus management.
The partisan’s ability to compartmentalize
Prevents both bewilderment and imminent.
It feeds the conflict between belief or mistrust.