~Kevin Arnold, The Wonder Years~
I grew up in the suburbs of the American 90's. I lived on a cul-de-sac, on the 17th hole of a golf course, not far from the neighborhood pool. Our cul-de-sac and our pool were just like every other cul-de-sac and pool throughout the country, only they were ours, and that made them home. Every summer I would epitomize the essence of a barefoot summer pool kid, tormenting the local lifeguard and roaming the neighborhood freely with a never ending pack of BMX bike hooligans. My next door neighbor was my best friend, and she and I would swing for hours every evening on a rope hanging from the limb of a giant oak tree that sat quietly on top of a hill, looking west over the golf course and beyond. We would watch the sun set every evening under that tree while we let time slowly pass by day after day, chasing fire flies and playing flashlight tag until we were called in. We possessed endless forests to roam and explore, and the world was simple, quiet, and peaceful to us. It may seem like an overly romanticized childhood, but it wasn't. It was our life. In every way possible my childhood was perfect, and I was great at being a kid.
Then a new century came, and we grew up. Everyone seems to spend some of their 20's lost in this world, and for most of the neighborhood children I grew up with that seems to be the case, myself most certainly included. I guess that is just part of growing up......becoming lost. However, just like our parents in the 60's, our 20's happened during a time of great change in this country, and in this world. As I look back on the world today and remember the last 3 decades, one thing is sorely evident to me............the day the planes hit the buildings, the innocence of our country was gone forever. 9/11 started the chaos, but the gravity of the event is something I didn't understand at the time. I thought I did, but I was wrong. I was too young to realize just how much that day changed the world forever. Of course war quickly followed, then political chaos. We became digitally connected and Facebook took over the world. We invented pills to make us happy, and smart phones became our link to communication, all the while drawing us away from the social simplicity we had failed to appreciate from less confusing times. Big banks, Internet porn, and irresponsible media practices only further removed us from our innocence. We discovered a new leader who promised to forge us out of the hole we had fallen in, but instead unintentionally divided our country by something as trivial as the color of his skin. Our economy was torn apart to benefit a select few who were clever enough to rig the system. And then, in the latter part of the decade, everyone lost their money, and with it the safety of knowing that everything would be okay. By the conclusion of the first decade of the 21st century, the world we had known as children and teens was completely gone, destroyed by a generation that had become obsessed with consumerism and greed. The 90's were nothing but a distant memory.
My personal world expanded during my own 20's, and it convinced me that the suburbs had failed me. I was persuaded to believe that suburbia had failed to make me resilient enough for the world I now found myself stuck in. I met different people who had grown up in different places, and all of a sudden that little cul-de-sac I was raised on became very, very small, and very, very distant. I listened to the perspectives of others, and as I did my mind slowly became poisoned about the place I was raised. The word "suburbs" no longer reminded me of the happy childhood that I was lucky enough to experience. Instead, I viewed the suburbs as a cookie cutter experiment manipulated by the system, designed to stimulate a dying economy and trick us all into believing that we were happy when in fact we were miserable. Finally, in 2008 and 2010, I had children, and by the time they were born I was persuaded to believe they should be raised in anything but the suburbs. I was convinced I had not experienced the childhood I once remembered.........perception is reality.
Whether it be the 1950's, the 1970's, or the 1990's, suburbia always represented the same thing in the American culture...........a safe and healthy place to raise your children, far away from the ugly TRUTH of the world. There have been times over the course of the past decade in which I have truly believed that my childhood was not healthy or safe. I felt the suburbs had failed me as an adult, and the shortcomings that I was now experiencing in my 30's were a direct result of the bubble I believed I had been trapped in as a kid..............this belief could not have been more wrong. I was lucky to have experienced the childhood that I did, and the environment that my parents provided allowed me to develop countless memories that I know I will cherish for the remainder of my life. For that, I am grateful.
"Like I said, things never turn out exactly the way you planned. Growing up happens in a heartbeat. One day, you're in diapers; next day, you're gone. But the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul. I remember a place... a town... a house... like a lot of other houses; a yard like a lot of other yards; on a street like a lot of other streets. And the thing is... after all these years, I still look back... with wonder."
Whether it be the 1950's, the 1970's, or the 1990's, suburbia always represented the same thing in the American culture...........a safe and healthy place to raise your children, far away from the ugly TRUTH of the world. There have been times over the course of the past decade in which I have truly believed that my childhood was not healthy or safe. I felt the suburbs had failed me as an adult, and the shortcomings that I was now experiencing in my 30's were a direct result of the bubble I believed I had been trapped in as a kid..............this belief could not have been more wrong. I was lucky to have experienced the childhood that I did, and the environment that my parents provided allowed me to develop countless memories that I know I will cherish for the remainder of my life. For that, I am grateful.
"Like I said, things never turn out exactly the way you planned. Growing up happens in a heartbeat. One day, you're in diapers; next day, you're gone. But the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul. I remember a place... a town... a house... like a lot of other houses; a yard like a lot of other yards; on a street like a lot of other streets. And the thing is... after all these years, I still look back... with wonder."
~The Wonder Years~
Over the last month I have come to realize that I lack a purpose in this world. I returned from three weeks of travel to California, Tennessee, and the West By God wilderness, only to discover that I was now more lost than ever. Yes, I have moved forward in my life over the last year, but I now come to a juncture where I must rebuild myself, and live up to the expectations that were thrust upon me when I entered adulthood. At the moment the chalkboard to outline that masterful plan is completely blank. As this reality began to set in, a wave of depression washed over me, and I retreated backwards to a space I knew all to well. The difference now was that I didn't have to find my way out of it alone...........I had Marcie. Over the last three weeks, she and I have forged our way through the complex labyrinth that is my emotional psyche, and once again I have discovered how lucky I am to have her. She is my rock. I cannot begin to express the importance of having unconditional love in your life during your darkest times. I know that not everyone is so lucky, and I know what it feels like to forge through dark times alone...............it can seem hopeless.
My downward spiral built up for two weeks, and then culminated last week in a rather sad display as I completely melted down. I spent five days isolated in our little apartment, binge watching every episode of The Wonder Years on Netflix. EVERY SINGLE EPISODE.................I can promise you, there are few scenes in this world as pathetic as a grown man sitting in his underwear on the couch on a weekday afternoon, crying his eyes out over the latest love saga between Winnie and Kevin. It has been a pitiful display on my behalf, and I am well aware of it.
However, it is only in total darkness that you are able to see the light, and I found my light in a simple television show that I let guide me in the past through my own adolescent and teenage years. Becoming lost in the everyday adventures of Kevin Arnold and his attempts at suburban dominance have reminded me of where I come from, and of the life I once had.
The Wonder Years provides endless story lines to relate to for a 90's kid lost in life in 2016, from every life lesson to every character involved. Memories of my own teenage heartache and lost love, epic victories from memorable sporting events that I never forget to cherish, sibling rivalries, the unconditional love of a mother, teachers that were able to leave an impact for life, and best friends that I will never forget. But above all else, The Wonder Years reminded me of one of the most complex relationships that exists throughout every suburban house in America....................the relationship between a father and son.
“With the sensation that he was passing through the Looking-Glass, Max stared at his father as if he had never seen him before—simultaneously impressed and unnerved at the thought that, after all these years, he still knew so little about him.”
My downward spiral built up for two weeks, and then culminated last week in a rather sad display as I completely melted down. I spent five days isolated in our little apartment, binge watching every episode of The Wonder Years on Netflix. EVERY SINGLE EPISODE.................I can promise you, there are few scenes in this world as pathetic as a grown man sitting in his underwear on the couch on a weekday afternoon, crying his eyes out over the latest love saga between Winnie and Kevin. It has been a pitiful display on my behalf, and I am well aware of it.
However, it is only in total darkness that you are able to see the light, and I found my light in a simple television show that I let guide me in the past through my own adolescent and teenage years. Becoming lost in the everyday adventures of Kevin Arnold and his attempts at suburban dominance have reminded me of where I come from, and of the life I once had.
The Wonder Years provides endless story lines to relate to for a 90's kid lost in life in 2016, from every life lesson to every character involved. Memories of my own teenage heartache and lost love, epic victories from memorable sporting events that I never forget to cherish, sibling rivalries, the unconditional love of a mother, teachers that were able to leave an impact for life, and best friends that I will never forget. But above all else, The Wonder Years reminded me of one of the most complex relationships that exists throughout every suburban house in America....................the relationship between a father and son.
“With the sensation that he was passing through the Looking-Glass, Max stared at his father as if he had never seen him before—simultaneously impressed and unnerved at the thought that, after all these years, he still knew so little about him.”
~Sol Luckman~
I have not seen or spoken to my own father in a very long time. This fact eats at me every day. I always concluded that the same held true for him, and because it did, I would at some point receive an email, a phone call, or a letter asking to meet with him, put the past behind us, and move forward.............but that day never came. I justified this by believing that he was waiting for me, and our continued silence with one another was just a tragic stalemate between stubborn wills.
Like most who would find themselves in this unfortunate situation, I trained my mind to ignore the reality, pretend it didn't exist, and focus on the present moments of life. Pretending seems to be a common occurrence in modern day America. I assume life is just easier that way. We build up our own bubbles and then congeal it's lining to lock ourselves in as we become older and more distant. By following this practice, I built a life with someone I love, advanced my knowledge and boundaries of the sport I cherish, and increased the exploration of adventure that I have always sought throughout my life...................so why don't I feel any better?
The answer to that question is simple; everyone needs family. One of the saddest justifications that I have made during my time away from my family is that their silence justifies my absence from their lives..........it doesn't. My father is a simple individual, absent of almost all passion and heartfelt emotion. In some ways I envy this about him. He does have the ability to spend the remainder of his life estranged from his only son without ever letting the situation affect his emotional well being or his happiness in life............I simply do not have the ability to do this, and for that I envy him.
I continued to fool myself into believing that I was as cold-hearted as he was, and that two can play at his game. This has been an ongoing struggle for years now, and it has led me back into the pits of depression many, many times. However, in the darkest hour of my most recent depressive breakdown, I found light within The Wonder Years. I experienced one simple scene of the show, and when I did all of the hatred, heartache, guilt, stubbornness, and abjection that has continued to poison my mind and soul simply melted away. Those feelings were replaced by memories of a simpler time. I remembered my father throwing me the football in the backyard while he grilled dinner for the family. I remembered him standing on the sidelines weekend after weekend cheering me through another soccer season. I remember trips to the beach, tours of Civil War sites, birthday parties, Christmas dinners, and summer hikes at Wintergreen. I remembered the suburbs, and the innocence that I once held within my heart. But most of all I remembered what it felt like to have a father...............and how my own children have no concept of what that feels like. Here is the scene that changed it all..........
I grew up very similar to Kevin Arnold. Emotional, confused, self centered, and constantly teetering on the edge of heartbreak. I was popular and well liked, but many times I made the choice to be alone. I possessed the ability to act like a real asshole on the outside, but my inner monologue always carried the best of intentions. But most of all, I spent most of my childhood struggling to emotionally connect with my own father. Just like Kevin, many times I simply failed to understand the man he was.
Love is never simple. Not for fathers and sons. We spend our lives full of hope and expectations. And most of the time we are bound to fail. But that afternoon as I watched my father sheltering his son against a future that was so unsure, all I knew was they didn’t want to let each other down anymore.
~The Wonder Years~
This scene resonates within my mind so clearly for a variety of reasons. I know the look Kevin has while staring at his fathers lawnmower, trying to hold it all together. I remember that feeling well, even after twenty five years. Having your heart broken is just a part of growing up. But Kevin's eyes emanate much more than just a broken heart. He is searching to find the words that will allow his father to understand. He wants to stand strong, but he knows he just can't. He is seeking a way to communicate just how much he needs his father at that moment. Like I said, I know that look well.............I just never found the right words for my own father, and for that I will always blame myself.
However, after re-watching that same scene at the age of 37, I discovered something that I never understood before; the perspective of Kevin's father. Jack understood the need to be there for his son. He identified the rare moment as a father that he needed to hold his son up and be the emotional support that every 13 year old boy needs. Kevin needed his father, and Jack was there.......................if I don't fix something now, then I won't be there at the moment when Marlow and Quint need me. That just can't be.
I miss my father every day. I hope that he misses me too, however, knowing the man he is I doubt that is the case. He holds an immense amount of bitterness in his heart towards me, and rightfully so. I recently visited my sister in an attempt to reach out to my family and demonstrate that I am not the profligate they have all perceived me to be. I enjoyed the time that I spent with my niece, however, some parts of the day broke my heart. My sisters six year old daughter told me stories about visiting Marlow and Quint and playing in their backyard in a tree house. She revealed small pieces of my own children's lives that I will never be a part of. And she divulged stories about spending time with her grandparents and Marlow and Quint, together. It was at this moment that a realization smacked me like a brick to the head.................only my life halted when I lost my children. Everyone else just moved on. My family, my parents, my sister, and my boys; all simply moved on with life, while my life hit the pause button. No matter how much of my own life now moves forward in Baltimore and with Marcie, I still feel like I am stuck on pause. Everyone else simply moved on with life.................and I don't blame them. I would have done the same. It's just easier that way.
I have not lost all hope. I must make a start somewhere in order to release the pause button and move forward. I must find a way back to the life I once knew with the family that has been slipping away once and for all. Days continue to disappear, and as they do my father and I have less and less time to rectify a lifelong struggle to understand one another. His years are limited, and if one of us doesn't act now, eventually there will only be regret and memories. I refuse to let that be our future. At this point I have to accept the fact that there will not be an email or phone call from him. I have to acknowledge the fact that he is content in his decision to repudiate his only son from his life. I have accepted this, as well as accepting him for the man that he is, as opposed to the man I always wanted him to be. We all need to accept each other for who we are. That may be one of the hardest lessons to learn in life.
My father is a good man. He just wasn't very good at having a son. He and I exist on two very different levels of emotional intelligence. I have now accepted this fact, and recognized that if we are able to reconnect, there won't be any discussion about the past mistakes made, the heartache that has taken place on both ends of the relationship, or the roadblocks that have always existed in our lack of a relationship. I simply need to accept him for who he is, and hope that he can do the same for me. As I stated early, I think one of the hardest lessons to learn in life is accepting people for who they are............especially for fathers and sons.
“He'd done everything in his power to make damn certain that Daniel never had to fear coming home. At that endeavor, Cameron knew he'd already surpassed his own father.”
~Jennifer Ashley~
As suburban adolescents, every kid was sheltered. After all, the purpose of the suburbs was to do exactly that; shelter us. I look back on those innocent days throughout the 90's, and I now understand why the Baby Boomers chose to raise us in the manner they did. I use to believe it was a mistake, and our sheltered existence wasn't real. I use to perceive that we all existed in fabricated childhoods. But The Wonder Years reminded me that our childhood was real, and it was wonderful. To my mother and father; thank you for that gift.Now I must find my way back to a place that I am not certain even exists anymore. Perhaps part of what broke my heart about The Wonder Years is that I was watching a life that is no longer possible. Maybe the 90's were the last truly innocent era that humanity was allowed to experience. Perhaps my bleak, fatalistic outlook on our lost innocence is the reality. For many years now I have believed what once was is now gone, and could never be again..................I no longer want to believe that.
As I stated before, I am more lost than ever and know I have yet to discover my path home. But I have hope. I have hope that the suburban peace that I once experienced in my past can also exist in my future, and I can somehow find my way back. I have hope that I can one day experience the moments with my own boys that Kevin and his father were able to experience together. And I have hope that my own father and I can find some peace in knowing that we don't have to understand one another to have a relationship..............we simply need to accept the other for who they are, and appreciate the fact that we still have time to turn it all around. I have no clue where to start in this process. Perhaps my starting point is here, and the first step has already been made. Time will tell.
Eventually in life, we all need to find our way back to the places we've always known. Home is not simply a cul-de-sac with a rope swing under a big oak tree resting on a hill in the setting sun. Home is the safe and warm feeling that place provided you, and home are the people who shared in that love with you. As we grow older we seek solace in creating and experiencing that feeling with our own children, families, friends, and parents. I forgot that once, and somehow let it all slip away. I can only hope that other's believe as much as I do that we can get it back, because it is hope that will one day bring us all home.
~Shannon L. Alder~
See ya on the rivah..............hoping you have already found your way back home.
Dedicated to Melvin Jefferson: 1923-2016
