Tuesday, February 10, 2009


The memory... my son, he used to make eye contact with me with no guilt or qualms and he makes sure that I notice him look up at the ceiling fan. He's had this fascination of things in the air since he was born. Maybe looking up is ingrained in our souls. Is that our natural acceptance of authority. We are born into this being who constantly looks up at that which can protect us and give us orders to keep us safe and warm and make us giggle and smile.

If my son grew to accept that all that was bigger than him were his master then he would definitely not smear the toothpaste everywhere in the bathroom, atleast weekly, like he does, atleast weekly. My requests as a bigger being would suffice him to oblige. His rebellion has never instilled feelings of needing to strike fear inside of him to control him. He knows that I love him and my role as a father is not to control him but to keep him healthy and safe.

Why then has our great father, the government chosen to do the opposite. Why do we keep up this charade of protector/protected when it is more of a "do as I say or you won't eat" scenario? Why is every one of our peculiar frailties preyed upon by our father?

This is actually not helping, I can't find the cohesion to make this comparison work. All I know is I love family and they rely on me. Because I am not a fucked up monster I am not going to bleed them dry in compensation for the safekeeping of them. If anything, I guess this can be a documentation of a memory that I hope to hell will never fade from me. Little Gio with his brand new eyes with the innocence of never felt want taking that ceiling fan into his smile.

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