May 29, 2014.
It was billed as a throwback to the old Beatnik days, minus the bongos and clove cigarettes.
As such, New York City was a mandatory locale; Brooklyn made it perfect.
Full, unedited video HERE.
He had never found himself (allowed himself?) to imagine his father revealing a lack of control. He had never known his father to cry, even at the funerals of his own parents. Over time the son had taken for granted that his father was at once inscrutable and incontrovertible: an entity that precluded explanation. In other words, even as he had embraced so many of the assumptions and illusions most adults successfully grapple with at some point, he had scarcely ceased to view his Pops from a child’s perspective.
His father, he had figured out many years before, was a piece of work—even for an Irish Catholic of his time and place (post-Depression, Boston). Over time it had become obvious that the only perceptible distress he would betray was the possibility of actually revealing an unguarded emotion, any sign of weakness.
***
“You’ve never seen your father cry?” a girlfriend had asked, a few years before.
“No, I never have,” he’d said, deciding to tell the truth.
She hadn’t believed him.
“I’m serious,” he’d insisted.
“But, how is that possible?”
“Well, he’s old school…”
“That’s just weird.”
“We’re not an unweird family.”
“The rest of you seem pretty normal.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” he’d said, deciding to tell half the truth.
“So…if your father doesn’t cry, what does he do?”
“Uh…”
“I mean, instead of crying, does he show no emotion at all?”
“He’s Irish.”
“What does that mean?”
“He can do anger, and silence, and he even allows himself to be amused sometimes.”
“But what about if…when he’s upset?”
“He’s Irish.”
“What does that mean?”
“He keeps it locked up in there.”
“In there?”
“In the vault.”
“The vault?”
“You know, inside.”
“That’s just weird.”
“I don’t disagree.”
“You cry.”
“Of course I do; I’m my mother’s son.”
“So your mom cries?”
“She’s Italian.”
“You’re a disaster! You cry during movies…and not even sad movies!”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
***
He did cry during movies. And conversations. He often cried alone, especially when he listened to music. And not even sad music.
(So, you might ask him, are you really suggesting someone should want to listen to music that’s capable of making them cry?
(Yes, he would reply.
(But, you might ask, why would someone want to do such a thing?
(It’s simple, he would say. So you know you’re alive.)
