A Father/Son Story

[AFAustin]

(Update 9-1-08: I first posted this a year ago, soon after my son left for college. It's that time of year again, and my wife and I have now put his little sister, our "baby", in college as well. I know some of you may be going through the same bittersweet experience right about now, and thought you might enjoy this if you didn't happen upon it last time. My son, BTW, is thriving at USC, doing some wonderful writing and excited by all he is learning. And he and I are getting along famously---sometimes when a child leaves home, it can result in both the parent and the child appreciating each other so much more!)

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My wife and I have 4 kids: 2 grown daughters, one daughter who's a Sr. in high school, and a son that just began college at USC. My son wants to be a screenwriter, and we were thrilled when he was accepted into the Writing for Screen and Television school at USC, because it is the best in the country (is my pride showing yet?). My son, however, was a more difficult teenager than his 3 sisters put together, and my wife and I had a lot of tough times when he was in high school.

He just sent us a copy of his first assignment for his Screenwriting Fundamentals class. They were told to write a two page story "about anything". I wanted to share this with my friends here. (The flashlight, BTW, was a Fenix LOD CE).

Flashlight…What a Feeling​

My father is a fifty-five-year-old criminal defense attorney who collects flashlights; in his mind, I am an eighteen-year-old college freshman who collects problems. Over the last few years I have alternated between expensive car accidents and adolescent emotional breakdowns on a fairly regular basis; insurance companies have dropped my family just as my family has dropped my therapist. In fact, I often felt that I was the ball in a schoolyard game my father never really enjoyed playing, and I always just assumed that, when I left for college, he would drop me, too. As it turns out, I guess parenting is more like Monopoly, a game one never stops playing no matter how old one gets. I'll never forget the ten minutes when my dad proved to me not only the kind of father he is but also the kind of son I am.

Two or three days before I left home, my room and my life were in perfect order. I had spent weeks clearing shelves and packing boxes, and I had spent months preparing every imaginable slice of paperwork and sorting out every imaginable punch of emotion – I was as ready as I was ever going to be for college. But, like they say, father knows best. I was missing something. He didn't tell me what it was right away, so I was mildly surprised when he called me into his office, with his trademark rigid formality, on one of my very last afternoons.

His office had once been my nursery. The bottles and rattles had long since been replaced with tax files and flashlights. Sitting in an executive chair as I stood in the doorway, my father spoke to me as he always spoke to everyone, client and son alike: deliberately and eloquently, with impeccable grammar and with precise purpose. I had many long fights in high school with my dad, and, forceful and hurtful and bitter though they were, I never once felt as though he was wasting my time. The only thing worse than splitting an infinitive in my house is making small-talk, so whenever my father started speaking, I knew he had something to say.

That afternoon, he chose to talk to me about his flashlights. While other men and other fathers fall victim to midlife crises of all shapes and sins, my dad seemed to deem that kind of behavior irresponsible and fiscally unwise; he decided to collect flashlights instead. Dozens of them were neatly arrayed on the two desks surrounding him, a small legion infallibly protecting their emperor from barbaric darkness. My father selected one of his personal favorites, so he told me, from among the ranks, and he explained in meticulous detail this particular flashlight's finest features: long-lasting, a mere two inches in length, equipped with three brightness settings as well as a strobe light, and, for its size, the most powerful flashlight in the world. He concluded his description on that final note.

My high school years sprained, strained, and even broke my relationship with my father on a daily basis. Even as we battled over our differences and suffered through the silences, I never forgot two things: my father loved me, and I had no idea how I knew that. My mother and the back of my brain told me so, but it was much harder to see it or hear it in the steady stoicism of my dad.

When he gave me that flashlight, one of his personal favorites, on that afternoon, more was said between us than a thousand flashlights might have illuminated in the murky jungle of the previous four years. None of it took form in words, an ironic occurrence in a house where the English language is taken more seriously than religion. My father turned over to me one of his most prized, battery-operated discoveries, and I know exactly what he was saying to me with that flashlight: he loved me, and he would always be here for me, holding a flashlight and telling me to watch out for sharp rocks. Often when we'd fight, my father would remind me that we can't choose our parents – I'm so glad we can't, because I could never have chosen anyone better suited to be my dad.

 

[fnmag]

Very touching! I know you are proud of him.

 

[THE_dAY]

beautiful.

you must be proud.

 

[Oddjob]

Very nice story. My father was partially responsible for why I like flashlights and I occasionally think of him when I use mine.

 

[Ledean]

That is a beautiful story. Written well ..

 

[MarNav1]

Wow! Wow! And Wow! This must have really pulled your heart strings but good! Great stuff!

 

[Sigman]

Thanks for sharing that special moment/feeling between you & your son!

 

[greenstuffs]

very touchy i've been away from my Dad for almost 8 yrs now, your son reminded me when i was a in my teens :mecry:

 

[Supernam]

Wow, I just graduated from a university and I can't write that well.

 

[LED_Thrift]

That's a great story he wrote. Thanks for sharing it. My youngest son [now 12] is/was also harder to raise than the previous two put together, and I hope I can instill in him the feeling that he is firmly and wholly loved the way you did with your son.
I especially loved the line:

None of it took form in words, an ironic occurrence in a house where the English language is taken more seriously than religion.

Your son writes well - good luck to him with his education.

 

[Art Vandelay]

Wow. Thanks, that was a great post. I can see why they admitted him to the USC writing school. Congratulations on that.
:twothumbs

 

[chmsam]

That's a kid with quite a future ahead of him and in many more ways than just one. Sometimes saying, "May you have children just like you" really is not a curse after all, is it?

Good job, father and son.

 

[AFAustin]

Thanks, guys, for letting me share this with you, and for your kind and thoughtful words. I am indeed a very proud dad.

 

[mchlwise]

Amazing. Thanks for sharing.

I'm also involved with criminal defense.

 

[SilverFox]

Hello AFAustin,

It sounds like you and your wife have done very well. Your son is off to a very good start. It is amazing how children can bring such pain to our lives, yet also bring intense joy. As parents, we tend to endure the pain, but bask in the joyful moments.

Enjoy the JOY!!!

Tom

 

[jtr1962]

Touching story. Given where your son is going to school, I can see a storyline for a good movie here.

I'm glad that you found a way to express how you care about your son, and that he understood completely. This never happened to me or my brother or sister. I remember never really giving my parents a tenth as much trouble as your son (except for the time I decided to take a year off from college), yet I never really felt either of my parents cared, or appreciated any of my accomplishments. I guess I sort of cleared the air with my dad as best I could before he passed on last year, but to this day I still feel he took all of us, including my mother, for granted. I'm glad you didn't take your son for granted, and he repaid the favor in kind with that wonderful story. Thanks for sharing.

P.S. Despite 4 years of college and lots of posting on forums I still don't think I write as well as your son. I think he has a bright future ahead of him. It's usually those who go through a series of crises early in life which mold them who turn out the best.

 

[AFAustin]

Gentlemen,

I am so appreciative of your comments on reading this story. Your willingness to share in turn how it brought to mind your own father/son experiences means a lot to me. I have forwarded a link to this thread to my son, so that he can read all the insightful posts (and enjoy all the generous compliments ).

 

[Burgess]

Very insightful, profound, and well-written.


Seems like he has completed his "gotta' drive Dad crazy" phase.


Now he's moving on.


And seems to have learned a lot from you ! (wink)



Best of luck (and health) to you and your loved ones, AFAaustin.

_

 

[AFAustin]

Thanks, Burgess, and same good wishes for you and yours.

 

[depusm12]

Just curious which flashlight did you give him?