December 22, 1993

Raymond,

This is a letter I've been thinking of writing for a long, long time. I cannot begin to tell you how many moments have come and gone in which I have composed parts of this acknowledgment. I have no concrete reason why I've never written these thoughts to you in the past, but now I feel I must tell you these thoughts before I simply bust, grow senile and forget, or continue to procrastinate year after year until it's too late.

I'm forty-eight years old and my life has been anything but boring. Somehow I feel that the adventure is still just getting underway though. As I get older and continue down my path, I notice certain truths and core values that I hold to be dear. And as these values become clearer and clearer to me, I am reminded more and more of my father. As Bill Cosby says, "My father seems to get smarter the older I get."

I am told that there are many things that contribute to who we are; what kind of person we become. I am told that during our first three years of life; our personalities are pretty much set. I am also told that our family and/or environment are inextricably involved in our development. And I am given to understand that our same-sex parent or parent figure is our most powerful model of behavior as we grow and develop. These are certainly curious concepts in light of one's experience of growing up and rebelling against what seems to be the "status quo." In my "forty-something" wisdom, I've come to believe a lot of that is just the flailing-of-arms and bells-and-whistles, which is the most noticeable and outward appearance of what is otherwise the young leaving the nest.

If I take what I am told, what I have read, what I have studied, what I have experienced, what I have conjectured, and kneed it all together and let it set for, shall we say, some forty-something years; certainty seems to rise from the mass in the form of many little beliefs based on perceptions. My theory, then, is that all of these "beliefs based on perceptions," when formed into a singular "loaf" begin to define who I am. These beliefs, these experiences, these perceptions, when put into a context, become a recipe for behavior which I follow with little conscious attention. And, every now and then, in some cathartic moment, I'm given an opportunity to make some slight adjustment to the recipe; however, the basic list of ingredients still provide the context for the changes to come.

What I would like to share with you are a few of the ingredients I see in my own recipe; because I am a little older and wiser now and am able to see them in my father's recipe as well. This is some of what I see has passed from father to son:

I think of other people. Following the "Golden Rule" is fairly automatic for me, because I was brought up that way. I was shown that behavior as the way to be. Of course I could think less of myself and more of others, but the point is, this is not something I have to try to do. This was given to me. It was given to me by my father.

I can work hard and finish things I start; sometimes things other people start. I'm usually not very aware of this. But when I look back, I see some results. It doesn't ordinarily seem like work though; it's just what I do. This was given to me. It was given to me by my father.

I am an optimist. I usually believe things will turn out OK. In the face of seemingly insurmountable odds, I imagine and create solutions to problems. This I notice by comparison to most people around me, not because I try to be optimistic. It's just how I am. This was given to me. It was given to me by my father.

I have a sense of humor that can be measured in volumes. There are plenty of times I wish I would not take myself quite so seriously, but all in all, I can appreciate the lighter side of life. And I love to make people laugh. I don't really try to do this. It just seems to come out of me. This was given to me. It was given to me by my father.

I pay attention to details. This, I think, makes me the craftsman that I am. I can remember trying to do this. I would try to emulate the results my father seemed to be able to create by paying attention to the details. At some point, though, it became automatic. Now I just seem to look for and account for the details. This was given to me. It was given to me by my father.

I have a passion for what I feel and what I believe. Interestingly enough, I think this was the spark to ignite many fires of dissent between my father and myself as I grew into manhood; and has become the kindling of the campfires of discussion between men of respect. This passion was given to me. It was given to me by my father.

I am committed. I am slow to quit and will try to see a thing through to its end.

I am reverent and I stand in awe of a power greater than myself.

Right and wrong are pretty clearly defined concepts for me and I will usually suffer personal hardship for having done what I believed was the "right" thing rather than take quick gain from doing the "wrong" or the "easy" thing.

Again, these things were given to me. They were all given to me by my father. These are attitudes; they are a way of being; they direct me and support me. In times of crisis I unconsciously will fall back on them. They bring beauty into my life and allow me to appreciate the beauty around me; though at a cost. The price is to feel different; to feel sometimes isolated; to feel misunderstood. To feel at times as though I'm on the platform of life watching as so many around me are boarding a great train bound for a fast and visionless journey. My journey will be slowly won by foot, filled with adventure and heart, and will bring me hope, strength and vision.

I am grateful for the father you have been. I thank you and I appreciate what it has taken to be my father. I wish there could be more people in this world who could know me simply as your son.

I would like to close this letter with a word I have learned. It comes from India. It is a word used as a greeting and salutation and is one of acknowledgment and respect.

your son

 
[ so, we meet again, you and I ]