Sunday poetry: "Young Father"

In Careless Love, the second part of his brilliant two-volume biography of Elvis Presley, Peter Guralnick writes that by the end of Elvis' life, his audience loved him not for what he was but for what he sought to be. That is a difficult grace to bestow on celebrities, whose public lives are about nothing so much as maintaining an image. It is even harder to bestow on those around us. If there is one statement that literally applies to every member of the human race, it is that each of us has a vision of ourselves that we try constantly to live up to. Some of us may be less flamboyant than others, but a performance of some kind is inevitably taking place -- even if we don’t expect applause, and even if the only audience (or critic) is ourselves.
 
Take a moment to sketch a self-portrait. It can be an imaginary one; you don’t need an actual pen or paper. Perhaps you’re starting with your job, paid or otherwise. You are a firefighter, and your picture shows a strapping, resilient person who bolts to action when the alarm sounds but finds a way to stay methodical under pressure. A politician: You are charismatic, caring, the one who takes action while others dither. An artist: You entertain, challenge, and impress with inspiration. A preschool teacher: Your voice soothes at the right moments and herds cats at others. Note that some of the people described above might be considered “selfless” more than others. Yes, the world is full of people who put on a show of modesty. However subconsciously, that is still putting on a show. Being us can be a demanding task, especially when we sense that others depend on us to do it.
 
“Young Father,” my poem featured this week in the Journal of Radical Wonder, is about a man who is having a tough day being himself. The poem is not about any real person, but no doubt you can identify with it on some level. Perhaps you’ve failed to summon the wit that you typically muster at dinner parties or to perfectly keep track of every work email you received this week. The failure is the same thing at bottom: You feel that you’ve disappointed yourself, and others, and maybe God as well. Possibly a media image gets worked in there somewhere as well. The main character of “Young Father” may at some point have immersed himself in Atticus Finch, or someone Tom Hanks played in a movie, or any other Hollywood conception of an ideal man of the house. He is not that man right now, and he is unsure of his relation to the house as well.

An argument has just flared between him and his young son. He has slammed the front door and stormed outside, where he takes a moment to size himself up. Is there more than one ideal? Yes, and that may be a consolation. He is not poised or cool, but with his work clothes and stubbly chin, he appears fearsome and rugged (the neighbors' daughter, who watches him from a wading pool, provides a ready judging panel). Still, he acknowledges his helplessness -- both to control his temper and also to keep the house intact. Something else is keeping the house, plus the other houses lining the block, whole and standing. Some construction team worked it out, used the right materials and proportioned the weights correctly. The best that the poem's hero can say for himself is that his door slam didn't undo their efforts.

It is the woman who protects the house. She stays calm, holds their son to ease his nerves, sends the subliminal message that rage is not permitted. Am I delving into gender stereotypes here? Was I doing so when I wrote this poem a decade ago? Perhaps. "Young Father" is about specific characters, and a reader can take it as universal or not. For that matter, it is about a specific moment. If this fiery man could stick with the reader longer, he would show different sides soon enough. The next time his son leaves a toy on the kitchen tiles, he might defuse the situation with humor or a gentle reminder. His wife might nod with approval, the house standing as resiliently as both of them wish. The audience is always there. Elvis knew that. After so many muckraking biographies, we still hail him for the times when he got it right.