Two monks, who have taken a vow of silence, are making their way through a forest when they come upon a fast moving river they must traverse. Standing at its edge is an old woman who is too frail to wade across. The first monk asks her if she wants him to help her cross. She assents and he carries her to the opposite bank as the second monk follows behind. Once on the opposite bank, the old woman thanks him for his help and moves off on her own. Several days later, the second monk asks the first why he broke his vow of silence. The first monk answers “Brother I left the old woman on the river bank. Why are you still carrying her with you?”

A Variation of a Zen Story

Daniel often wonders why he even bothers to see his parents when he comes back to town. Even though he has travelled thousands of miles to see them, George and Bonnie are not particularly interested in anything he is doing or has done. It has always been that way. The fact he was the first person in the family to graduate from university was of no import. His starting a successful business is of little interest as well. Their aspirations for him did not go beyond being not being a drunk, not being a criminal and not being unemployed. Everything else he had done, or would ever do, would always be trumped by the fact he left his wife and child and set out on his own. Leaving his marriage was too high a price to pay for anything he would ever achieve. Anything.

As his parents have gotten older, it has become harder and harder to get them to acknowledge any act that has taken place outside the confines of their small apartment except for the lottery draw. Daniel has begun to think that perhaps it is best he never visits them again. One way or another, it always upsets him. It is clear whatever it is he wants from them is never going to be realized. Those are the thoughts running through his head as he moves his finger toward the intercom buzzer.

Daniel’s mother is all a twitter when he enters the apartment. She appears to be happy to see him and offers him a cup of tea. It is always a cup of tea, regardless of the occasion. His father acknowledges him, but remains seated in his rocker recliner smoking a cigar. Daniel thinks that this is his enduring image of his father, cigar and smoke and vacant stare. All his life he has wondered what his father thinks about and never shares. Just once he would like to be inside his father’s head so he could understand what goes on in there.

After a few niceties, Daniel asks about the circumstances of his siblings, all of whom live in cities close by, but who visit his parents only marginally more than he does. His questions are met with perfunctory answers except when he asks about his older brother Jack. Doing so prompts his father to say more than a few words.

“Jack is in therapy and he thinks coming here and asking me question after question is part of the process.” Daniel has never expected the word therapy to ever come out of this father’s mouth.

I’m not sure what you mean Dad.”

His father is now visibly annoyed. “He keeps on asking me questions about what I was like as a kid. How I felt about my brothers and my mother. And my father. I hardly even knew my father. He was gone long before I was old enough to ask him a question.”

Daniel is not surprised that Jack has asked his father those type of questions. He too would like answers to them. He is sure all his brothers and sisters would be interested in his father’s responses. None of them have any more insight into his father than he does. But his father is never going to play some kind of television role about a man who suddenly gains insight into the workings of his life and then proceeds to vomit out all his fears, failures, insecurities and hurts. All in 60 minutes or less.

“I wouldn’t dwell too much on that dad. He is probably trying to figure out why he is the way he is.” As soon as those words leave Daniel’s mouth, he wishes he could take them back. He has added fuel to the flame.

“So, he thinks that by interrogating me, he will find out who he is? All of us are responsible for our own lives. He can’t blame me for the way he turned out.”

Daniel gets an image of Jack with his father. He can clearly see how Jack’s approach to asking questions could be exactly like an interrogation.

“I don’t think that he is trying to blame you for anything. That’s not the way therapy works,” Daniel says.

Though Daniel is not absolutely certain of his brother’s motivations. Maybe there is some sort of confrontation that is necessary for his therapy to work. If so, it will prove to be a pointless exercise.

“I didn’t have a father to help me when I was growing up. There was nobody there to take me to a ball game or anything else. I had to leave school to help feed my mother and brothers. I never got to go on vacations the way you kids did. I had to make my own way in the world with no help from anyone.”

As those words are uttered, Daniel catches his mother glancing at his father with a look that appears to say, “You might want to rethink that statement husband of mine.”

Daniel is hesitating about what to say next. He takes a leap. “Well then, if Jack can’t blame you for how he turned out, you can’t blame your father for how you turned out can you. As you said, we are all responsible for our own lives.”

Daniel’s father looks at him and says nothing. Daniel can see he is angry.

Daniel’s mother knows she must spread oil on troubled waters. That is her job.

She pipes up. “He is mean to us. He doesn’t even have Wendy call us grandpa and grandma. She always calls us Mr. and Mrs. Lehman.” His mother’s eyes are filled with hurt. She hurts easily, even when she is the co-architect of the pain.

Daniel doesn’t know what to say. The truth would be to tell them they have paid little or no interest in any of their grandchildren. They weren’t mean to them. They really weren’t anything to them and now they expect them to come visit them and create a Norman Rockwell painting. Speaking the truth would be to ask them who they really think they are. Do they actually think they are kind and loving grandparents? Regardless of all that, Jack’s daughter calling them Mr. and Mrs. Lehman is not by chance. It is a mean response to the real or imagined hurts of Jack’s childhood.

Daniel looks at his parents and debates about what to say next. He voices a different truth.

“Look Dad. What it all comes down to is that as kids we wondered if you really loved us.”

His father responds in a way that is very much him. “I love all my children.”

“I don’t doubt that,” says Daniel. “I’m not saying you didn’t. I’m just saying that we wondered.”

Again, his father says, “I love all my children.”

Then Daniel utters words that have never left his mouth before.

“Ok then, tell me you love me.”

“I love all my children.”

“That’s not what I asked. Tell me you love me.”

“George, tell Daniel you love him,” says his mother.

His father remains silent and Daniel can feel pressure building up behind his eyes.

“Well, I guess it is time for me to go,” he says.

Nobody argues with him. As he is putting on his coat, his mother asks if he will bring his daughter, Susan, to see them while he is in town. He tells them he will bring her by tomorrow even though the changes of that happening are slim to none. When he gets into the hallway of his parent’s apartment building, Daniel leans up against the wall and sobs.

Back at his hotel that night, Daniel cannot sleep. He is desperately trying to understand his parents. He asks himself if he thinks they are conscious of the things they do that alienate them from their children. Were they bad parents? He knows they could have been much, much worse. Did they beat him? No. Did they sexually abuse him? No. Did they lock him in a closet? No. Were they drunks. No. Did he ever worry about them getting a divorce? No. Did they feed and clothe him? Yes. Were they there for him when he needed them, like the time he had to go to court for car theft? Yes. Are we all responsible for our own lives regardless of what we experience?

Daniel decides he will take a different tack. He tries to imagine them deciding how they were going to treat him when he was a child. He imagines them lying in bed plotting against him.

“Bonnie.”

“Yes George.”

“I was wondering. Do you want help me fuck up Daniel?”

“Oh, very much so. You know I always do what you want me to honey. What do you think is the best way to really fuck him up?”

“Well Bonnie, I was thinking that maybe creating abandonment issues in him might be very good. You know, make it hard for him to make real connections.”

“Oh, and make him a real suspicious person. The kind that is always checking up on their mate.”

“l like that Bonnie. I really like that. It’s the kind of thing that will stay with him for the rest of his life. I really don’t think there is anything else that could fuck him up more. When should we start?”

“Let’s start tomorrow.”

“Hold on a second. What if he realizes what the issue is that is controlling his life is and figures out how to get rid of it.”

“Daniel? Can you see him working that hard? If we do our jobs well, he will be so fucked up he will never have the luxury of reflection. Not going to happen my love. Good night honeybun. Sweet dreams.”

Would those sentiments have ever come out of the mouths of his parents? Would they have entertained such thoughts? Would they have used that vocabulary? Is there a difference between making a mistake that hurts somebody and purposely setting out to hurt them?

Daniel has forgiven himself for things he has done that have hurt people. Given all the mistakes he has made, who is he to question the activities of others? Are you who you think you are, or are you as others think you are? Do we all act out of our own lights? Is it your fault if you are given a sixty-watt bulb to work with? Are the hundred-and-fifty-watters better at life, or are their fumbles and failings just different? Exhausted, Daniel finally falls asleep.

The next day, Daniel is once again pressing the intercom button. It takes forever for his parents to answer. They know he is coming and it is him that is using the buzzer, but his mother will always ask him who he is to make sure some potential miscreant isn’t trying to enter the building.

As he and his daughter, Wendy are riding up in the elevator, he asks her to make sure to call his parents grandpa and grandma Lehmann. She agrees. “Will grandpa Lehmann read me a story?” she asks holding up the copy of the Velveteen Rabbit she has been carrying with her all morning.

 “I don’t know sweetie,” Daniel says while at the same time thinking that there is a much chance of that as the pope getting married. Once inside his parents’ apartment, his mother is once again all a twitter. She is truly happy to see her granddaughter.

“Would you like some juice, Susan?”

“Yes, grandma Lehmann.”

Daniel’s mother looks at him, her face all warm and soft. While she is getting the juice, Susan goes over to his father’s chair. “Grandpa Lehman why do you smoke? It’s really stinky.”

Daniel isn’t sure how his father is going to respond. He suspects it is not going to be good. He is wrong. “Well Susan, I can stop if you want me to. I don’t want to be stinky,” he says with a smile on his face.

“Will you read me a story grandpa?” she asks holding out her book. To Daniel’s surprise, his father takes the book from her and Susan crawls up onto his lap. His father begins to read. He changes his voice for different animal characters. His deep horse voice makes Susan laugh.

Daniel looks at his mother frozen in place holding Susan’s juice and smiling at his father. He looks at his father reading to his daughter and sees he is wearing a face Daniel has never seen before. A feeling of calm comes over Daniel. He is floating free. It is as if a great weight has been taken off him.