父親、兒子和我

By+WaltHarrington

M y father still looks remarkably like I remember him when I was growing up：hair full，body trim，face tanned，eyes sharp. Whats different is his gentleness and patience. I had remembered neitherasaboy，andIwonderedwhichofushadchanged.

My son Matthew and I had flown to Arizona for a visit，and his 67-year-old grandfather was tuning up his guitar to play for the boy.

My father and I were once at great odds. We went through all theclassicresentfulandrebelliousteenstuff.

When I was a boy，my father wasnt around much. He worked seven days a week as a milkman. But even at work he was the task-master in absentia. Infractions were added up，and at night he dispensedpunishment，thoughrarelybeyondathreateningvoiceora scoldingfinger.

OnedaysomefriendsandIburiedourhighschoolsparkinglot barriersunderthewoodpilefortheannualhomecomingbonfire.

Wehatedthethingsbecausetheykeptusfromleavingschoolin our cars until after the buses had left. I thought the prank was pretty funny，and I mentioned ittomyfather. He didnt think it was funny，andheorderedmetogowithhimtodigthebarriersout.

Can you imagineanythingmorehumiliatingthan thisatage16？ Irefused，andwestoodtoetotoe.Dadwasinarage，andI thoughtfor aninstantthatthetesthadcome.

But then he shook his head and calmly walked away. The next day my friends told me thattheyhadseen himat the bonfire celebration. Hed climbed into the woodpileinfrontof hundredsofkids，pulled out the barriers andleft.Henever mentioned it to me. He still hasnt.

Despite our father-son struggles，I never doubted my fathers love，whichwasourlifelinethroughsomeprettyroughtimes.

He had this way of smiling at me，this way of tossing a backhanded compliment，letting me know he was proud of me and my achievements. He was a rugged teaser，and it was during his teasing that I always sensed his great，unspoken love. When I was older，I would understand that this is how many men show affection without acknowledging vulnerability. And I imitated his way of saying“I love you”by telling him his nose was too big or his ties too ugly.

It was only after having a boy of my own that I began to think a lot about the relationship between fathers and sons， and to see and to understandmyownfatherwithremarkableclarity.

Ifthereisauniversalcomplaintfrommen abouttheir fathers，it is that their dads lacked patience. I remember one rainy day when I was about six and my father was putting a new roof on his mothers house，a dangerous job when its dry，much less wet. I wanted to help. He was impatient and said no. I made a scene and got the only spanking I can recall. He had chuckled at that memory many times overtheyears，butIneversawthehumor.endprint

Only now that Ive struggled to find patience in myself when Matthewinsistshehelpmepaintthehouseor saw down dead treesin thebackyardamIabletoseethatdaythroughmyfatherseyes.

For reasons too profound and too petty to tell，there was a time years ago when my father and I didnt speak or see each other. I finally gave up my stubbornness and visited unexpectedly. For two days we talked，of everything and nothing. Neither mentioned that wehadntseeneachotherinfiveyears.

I left as depressed as Ive ever been，knowing that reconciliation was impossible. Two days later I got the only letter my father ever sent me. Im the writer，hes the milkman. But the letters tone and cadence，its emotion and simplicity might have beenmyown.

“I know that if I had it to do over again，”he wrote，“I would somehow find more time to spend with you. It seems we never realize thisuntilitstoolate.”

All morning I am anxious. Matthew and I are about to leave Arizonafor home，and I am determined to do something I have never done.

So， just before my son and I walk through the gate and onto our plane，I lean over，hug my father and say，“I want you to know that I loveyou.ThatIalwayshave.”

父親還是我孩提時記得的模樣：臉色黑里透紅，目光炯炯有神，一頭濃發更使他儀表堂堂。不過，他現在比過去溫和耐心多了。當初可不。也不知道是誰起了變化，是他還是我？

我和兒子馬修乘飛機去亞利桑那州看望父親，67歲的父親調好吉他給孫子彈奏。

我和父親曾格格不入，劍拔弩張。那是成長時期的兒子與父親常有的“敵對”。

我孩提時父親常不在家。他是個送奶工，每周工作七天。即便外出，他也是個缺席監工。我們在家犯的錯誤被一一記著，晚上回家他再找我們算賬，但也不過是口頭威脅或責罵。

有一次，我和幾個朋友把學校停車場的柵欄埋在柴堆里，準備用來燒一年一度的篝火，慶祝返校節。

我們恨這些柵欄，因為它們擋著我們，只有等公共汽車走完之后，我們才能乘自己的車離校。我覺得這惡作劇很好玩，就跟父親提了此事。可他一點也不覺得好玩，命我立即跟他一塊去把柵欄扒出來。

你能想象，對于16歲的我，當時還有比這更丟臉的嗎？我當然不干，我們針鋒相對。父親氣極了，那一刻，我意識到考驗的時刻到了。

可他卻搖搖頭平靜地走了。第二天朋友告訴我，他們在篝火慶祝會上看見我的父親了。他當著幾百個孩子的面爬上柴堆，扒出埋在里面的柵欄后走了。他從來沒跟我提及此事，至今沒有提過。

盡管我們格格不入，但我從不懷疑父親很愛我，這便是連接我們的紐帶。

父親從不正面贊揚我，還常常對我冷嘲熱諷，但其中透露著對我和我的成功感到驕傲。父親粗魯、樸實，愛戲弄人，可我從這戲弄中感受到深厚的父愛。長大了些以后，我開始明白這是男人為避免承認脆弱的表達愛的方式。我也學著他的樣，想說“我愛你”時，卻說他的鼻子太大或者領帶太難看。

我是在有了兒子以后才開始思考父子間的關系，開始深刻理解了自己的父親。

所有男人都會抱怨自己的父親缺乏耐心。記得六歲時，一個陰雨天，父親在給祖母蓋屋頂。這活兒晴天干都有危險，何況雨天？我想幫忙，他卻極不耐煩地把我推到一邊，我不干，結果屁股挨了一頓打。多少年過去了，每想到此事他就竊笑，可我一點不覺得有什么好笑。

如今每當馬修吵著要幫我刷墻，幫我鋸后院的枯樹，我拼命忍住性子時，才明白父親當年的眼神流露的含義。

幾年前因為某些微妙的原因，我和父親一度不往來了。最終我克服了自己的固執，出其不意去拜訪父親。我們談了整整兩天，似乎什么都談了，又似乎什么都沒談。誰都沒談我們五年都沒見面的事。

離開父親時我很沮喪，我想，和好如初是不可能的了。兩天后我收到父親給我寫的唯一一封信。我是作家，他是送奶工，但他寫信的基調、節奏、感情與簡潔與我“如出一轍”。

“假如生活重來一次，我會贏得更多的時間讓你留在我身邊。我們總是在事情無法挽回時才看清真相。”他在信上說。

我和馬修準備離開亞利桑那回家了。整整一個早晨我心里七上八下不能平靜。我決定做一件從未做過的事情。

帶兒子登機之前，我彎下身子，摟著父親說：“爸爸，我愛你，我一直很愛你。”endprint