Little did my father know how much I enjoyed cutting his hair. We did not have a fun relationship or affectionate one necessarily. Ours was more like an awkward silence people experience during dating – where each is trying to play a role. Connection is desirable but tenuous. And often fails.
As people are tempted to do when they try and fail in relationships, they return to their own corner of existence and think hard thoughts about themselves or others- neither of which is helpful. It’s those bitter or resentful musings about ourselves or others that make meaningful relationships almost impossible, I realize now.
My father and I lived side by side a long time, like two boats in a sometimes calm, often tumultuous ocean. When I cut his hair, he was my captive audience. I’d talk to him about whatever. He would oblige me by showing interest and occasionally ask me questions. Sometimes we laughed- a healthy way to reduce stress. He and I had a common need for laughing.
When I am nervous or feel uncertain about myself, I try to be funny to relieve pressure. My father may have laughed with me because laughter can be catchy. Or he may have been on edge, too.
Possibly, he was laughing with me. I remember a few times at least that was true. We had an understanding.
One long winter, I was wearied from caregiving and forgot to cut his hair for many weeks. He emerged from his office looking like Albert Einstein. “No worries,” the almost unrecognizable man said.
Eventually, I understood there is a whole world going on in my Father’s big head that I am buzzing, clipping, and shaping carefully so he looks sharp. He is a handsome man wherever he is now.
Despite the frailty of human relationships and the rarity of those moments with my Father, he was a safe harbor. A moment of mutual understanding is all its takes to keep our humanity in tact.
My Father was a private person and enjoyed solving math problems to keep his mind sharp even to his last days. He was creative with duct tape, a gift I am thankful to inherit. He was present.
We all make foolish choices in youth, or in moments of passion. We are tempted, too, to imagine our best laid plans and intentions ‘prove our worthiness.’ That is not an accurate picture of the human condition either. Our failures don’t make us irredeemable, neither do our good intentions make us guiltless.
Human beings are all made of the same stuff. The temptations, the snares, and the follies. The world seems determined to blind us to this battle of life- making finding meaning difficult. Happiness elusive.
My father and I lived side by side. Unlikely allies, mostly quiet human beings coexisting in a world strange and chaotic. Like characters in Joseph Conrad’s story, “The Secret Sharer,” I had someone- almost a stranger. But, his existence gave me comfort. I was not alone in the world.
Daily I learned that our humanity is at risk, if we do not do the hard work of examining our selves and finding our purpose in life. Shearing my father’s hair, I came to know being judgmental and unforgiving of myself or others only makes life worse. That makes genuine connection impossible.
How will I pass judgment on others and save myself from universal Judgment? What qualifies me to judge? What possible justification can I offer for my own failures?
Copper Chronicles 