Power of Perspective

This I believe: the truths we cling to depend greatly on our point of view. Considering different perspectives can strengthen, challenge, or bring clarity to the core beliefs we use to navigate the world.

My dad didn’t play catch with me; my next door neighbor’s family took me to sporting events. Upon discovering I couldn’t ride a bike at whatever the appropriate age that skill should have been mastered had passed me, the teenager my dad hired to help with the landscaping taught me on one of his breaks. I learned to shave from a family friend I stay with when my parents were out of town. I went to a weekly bowling league…with one of my Dad’s colleagues. By the time I reached high school, I conducted an experiment to see how long we could live in the same house without speaking to each other; after about 2 months, I said “hi”.

I don’t recall my dad and I completing any of the Father/Son activities I perceived to be the benchmarks of such a relationship.

When my father wasn’t at work, or at home working for his career, he was working at his hobbies. Every once in a while, I’d try to help; but after 10 minutes of sanding wood, I’d get bored and go play with friends. Like my friends, I didn’t like to clean my room or do chores, I wanted to play. While I got mostly good grades, I didn’t work too hard to achieve them. Had I dedicated myself more to academics, I could have achieved more scholastically.

As I was growing up, I didn’t think my father was a good dad. As an adult, I began to think about our relationship from his perspective.

As the third of five children growing up in Delhi, India, his childhood was markedly different than my experience as a Valpo kid with every need and most every desire met. While not impoverished, my Dad and his siblings each had an area of work the family depended on. One of the few stories of my Dad’s childhood I know, was that one kid would climb on the roof to direct the others in chasing down the family’s escaped water buffalo.

My Dad’s focus was academics. From an early age his intellectual gifts were identified and study was his primary chore. My uncles once recalled that he was always reading while they had to do “real work”, and that he received the best clothes so we could look good at school–which he insisted on. He always told me he attended the Harvard of India.

As a kid, I didn’t volunteer to help; I had to be prodded to clean my room. I was more interested in having fun than studying most of the time. From my perspective, I was always waiting for my father to come to me. My dad’s perspective was shaped by his experiences; he was probably waiting for me to come to him.

I always respected and took pride in his work ethic and his work as a doctor. He did take pride in my academic achievements. I wish he hadn’t died 3 weeks before I could tell him that I had been accepted to Notre Dame Law (which must be, in part, why I tell anybody else who will listen—Go Irish!).

Now, it’s no longer important to focus on my failings as a son or his as a father. Understanding his perspective has allowed me to let go of anger I once had. Now I can smile when I hear his laugh, which he passed on to me, echoing out of my mouth.