Saturday 18 June 2016

As the Myst Lifts (I See What Must Not be Missed)

My father (dad) who was there to carry the torch (me) when the journeys of both my biological parents didn't include their staying together, nor either one of them raising a son; was a musician in a military band ("The Naden Band.") Through most of his tenure with the band it was a "Navy" band later in the history of the band; due to the machinations of political manipulation, there was reshuffling through the ranks of the entire Canadian Military - some bases closing. At this time the band was then comprised of a mixture of musician from bands of other branches of the armed forces (army, air force etc).

This was a move that my dad didn't embrace.

There was a pride that each member felt within their chosen branch of the service. Once "unification" came in; I suppose it stripped the various members of a part of their "identity" (or at least that which they "identified" with). Gone were the uniforms that clearly delineated the wearer as Navy, Air Force or Army. It was replaced by something... well ... "Uniform." All the members wore the same basic green uniform;  the only talisman of their former branch, were some small badges and pins with symbols representing them.

My dad hated that uniform! Without fail every time he came out of the bedroom; having donned his "dress uniform" for a parade or concert - he would say: "I look like a God Damn Doorman" (his "caste"system/hierarchal mindset aside) he did look like a doorman. The uniform was a darker green colour and was trimmed in gold braid (down the pant legs, on the rim of the cap and shoulder epaulets). There certainly wasn't anything, that would have indicated to anyone looking on from a far, that would visually give them a clue, that he was in the Navy (or a sailor).

I will return to this theme of identification another time.

 Dad seemed to speak with enthusiasm about his early military career. The band was then posted on one of the ships - so each member had a his set of shipboard duties while at sea and they travelled the world; where the band performed at different functions and ports of call.

The changes I mentioned earlier and I suppose, some of the realities of his "chosen" path as he aged; clashing with some of the romanticism of his youth, combined to have him not happy in his work. To hear him tell it - he was the only one in the whole system that was doing anything right!

Yes.. I'm aware of the parallels; my writing etc. clearly demonstrates I have a mind that is quite adept at critical analysis. Both my dad and I are Virgo's - so I honed my critical proclivities on some sort of parallel path as him. I wouldn't say I have been motivated through life by a need to be "right" - more a fear of the consequences of being "wrong."

My dad's dissatisfaction with his career certainly was no incentive to "follow in his footsteps." I was never drawn to go that route anyway - I didn't know where I was going, but I knew it wasn't there. Interestingly he spoke of himself as a "pacifist" - maybe that was the voice of his soul? Goes to show how misaligned one can become in this life. Though he was an accomplished "musician" (clarinet/saxophone and snare drum) which he parlayed into a viable life experience, quitting school in Grade ten to join the navy and "see the world."

When I was clearing out my parents house after they passed - I found a cardboard tube which contained some rolled up "sketches" that my dad had apparently done at some point. I also remember him doing a correspondence drafting or architecture course for quite a period of time. The latter I know he poured a great deal of time and energy into - the former I didn't know he even pursued. He quit the drafting course at some point as the "math got too much for me." The drawing ..... well given it was stashed away in a closet, I presume it also represented another "passion" unrealized.

Who am I to judge? I would say nonetheless, that he had gifts and potentials in these areas. I said in an earlier post I didn't know the man; among my gifts, is an ability to read people; filling in the blanks I would say my dad was a sensitive creative soul. He was able to express that through music (until a medical mishap in a military hospital, extracted all his teeth, rather than just the lower ones) Ill-fitting and his intolerance for, dentures combined to end his music playing. He said he couldn't "blow his horn any more." He must have been constantly conflicted being "a sensitive" in the hyper-masculine, highly structured environment of that path that he chose, to continue to generate an income.

I know him to have been self-sacrificing to a fault - so once he had the prospect of a family (myself and a sister) I'm guessing that though he made a few attempts to both follow his heart and broaden his horizons, he would not have taken the risks (really gone for it) if that meant jeopardizing the "security," that he was trying to provide.
Of course in this day and time, there is so much more consciousness around the emotional/spiritual nurturance that is part of parenting. Both my parents I would say were most certainly products of their time.  I can see the "influence" of a patriarchal society on both of them - they provided for us in a material sense, impeccably. The emotional tenor of the household was that of "stiff upper lip" and a walk through life, that involved not "going to pieces." (emoting). Of course this was the "mandate" the operating system - but there was all kinds of "emoting;" or reactions, to someone that was spontaneously, doing so.

I was so proud of my dad when I was a young boy and attended the parades and concerts, sunset ceremonies and military tattoos. The drummers were in the front row in the marching band, he was at the centre, right behind the drum-major. That military marching music is indelibly etched upon my heart. I suppose it got stirred in with love, pride and looking up, to my dad.  Though it got buried in a stew of emotional upheaval and wounds (there is no getting through childhood without each having their own version of this to process) there is no denying, that as I sift through and take ownership of all that which is mine, there is love there present for my dad.

I'm not destined for a military path. There is no question though, that in a more balanced way, I can benefit from a self-loving application of precision, structure, discipline, order, tradition, ceremony and service. I have my dad to thank, for my "training," modelling the need for these qualities into my awareness and planting the seeds for their future development.

In the muddle of the myriad of things my dad said to me over my lifetime; he often said, "I want you to have the opportunity for a better life than I had." This is no "competition," but I most certainly have more advantages than he did - it's up to me to leverage them and stand in them and find my way to serve.

I didn't do "this" alone, I stand on the shoulders of my ancestors. It must have been intended, that I "stand" rather tall, as I have four lineages carrying me "into battle."

I love you Dad and I miss you - Happy Father's Day!

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