In a semi-regular morning phone wall on his commute to work, I update my brother on the Red Robin conversation, “He wants to hear your perspective.” There’s the background sounds of his lowered window and traffic over Bluetooth, and his “Yeah, well, you can shit in one hand and wish in the other -.” I know what my brother is hinting at, “I don’t have hope, and I’ve resigned to it staying this way forever.” So I reassure him, “Truly, Kyle. He does.”
After returning from a short weekend to Georgia to tour our new build, he and I talk again, and he asks, “So, have you talked anymore with Dad about anything?” The word anything feels like a weighted blanket and nudge, and we all know what he’s referring to. But I haven’t and say so.
“Well, he talked to me.” Not expecting this, my stomach drops. “He did?” “Yeah. It was on the way back from a dump run. He needed a car wash, which I don’t think he really needed. But yeah, he cornered me in the car wash, Jack.” The image is too funny to ignore, and we laugh. “He said, ‘I talked to your sister.’ And I said, ‘Oh yeah?’ ‘About her book.’ And I said, ‘Oh yeah?’ He told me he had watched the documentary ‘The Program’ and asked if I knew any of them. I told him I was interviewed but stopped because I didn’t want to relive that time.”
My bare feet press into the coarse, spongy sand at the water’s edge, and the coolness tickles my ankles. The sensation is calming and hopeful, and. the water reassures me that swimming is on the menu. For now, I head for a blanket, a book, and a spot with more sand than rock to start one of the two books I packed for the trip.
“We didn’t talk about, ya know. But he did talk about relating to the brainwashing part in the movie. I didn’t say much. I was so full of anger. I could have screamed. But I knew it wouldn’t be productive, so I shut my mouth.”
I open the book The Sacred Path of the Warrior, flip to Chapter 1, and read, “The Shambhala teachings are founded on the premise that there is basic wisdom that can help solve the world’s problems. This wisdom does not belong to any one culture or religion, nor does it come from the West or the East. Rather, it is a tradition of human warriorship that has existed in many cultures at many times throughout history.”
It’s here I pause, flip to the front cover and to its back, trying to jog my memory about who gave it to me or where it came from. I reread the first paragraph again, but much more slowly, then put it down. The ideas overwhelm my body and mind. It’s a heightened state that feels like clouds parting. I don’t want or need anything other than to be with the words, to feel their power and my own. After a short while, I lay back and daydream, listening to the hypnotic sound of water the shore.
I’m proud of the conversation my Dad had with my brother. Whether my brother and he discuss excessive spankings isn’t my business. I’ll continue to support my brother and grow closer to my Dad, but as I told him at the end of the phone call, “Whatever happens now, I’m hopeful the three of us can leave the past behind and move forward together.”
Going On 40 