In my first post, my Blog Motivation Bullet Point #3 notes: “We had been living in the shadow of our parents for too long.”
This merits elaboration.
When I was a teenager, my parents revealed to me that my father was a spy. As in, a real-life CIA undercover agent. The reason for my being informed of this had to do with my father coming out of retirement to do some part-time work, and I was now of an age when I would start asking questions. It was decided that I was ready to know the truth about my father’s occupation, and that I had the maturity to keep it a secret from everyone.
Needless to say, there is more to this story, but for the sake of this particular post, the point is that my dad was pretty fucking cool. I was extraordinarily proud to be the child of a man whose remarkable career I imagined to be right out of the movies.
More to the point, however, is that it was virtually all in my imagination.
In fact, I know very little of my father’s work. I can speak in sweeping hyperbole about ideology, his fight to bring down the Iron Curtain, his dedication to democracy. I can tell an anecdote or two about an ill-fitting disguise and a harrowing escape from a drunk defector. But that’s pretty much all I can share.
And it’s a tough act to follow.
When I took a Solo-Performance writing class to work on a one-woman show, my theme of Secrets caught the attention of my teacher, but the material proved thin. When my sister and I sought feedback from a book draft about our parallel experiences following the death of our mother, our adviser asked us to flesh out the background on our father. When a film documentary about children of spies was looking for participants, I didn’t make the cut.
In comparison to the imagined life of my father, my real life has felt lacking in excitement. I have spent the better part of my adult life afraid to live and die in obscurity. Being labeled “ordinary” was my biggest fear. Surely I had something to say! Surely I was as special as my father? Didn’t I have something to give the world? Anything?
I may not. But I may, just maybe, have something to contribute to the greater good in my own, little way.
And that hope is precisely what makes me ordinary; little in this world is more human – and more common – than one’s aim to make a difference. While the Peace Corps volunteer may impact a village, and the doctor a community, my impact may not reach beyond my immediate circle of loved ones. But I have one hell of a circle, and I will do everything I can to make a positive impact in it.
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit feeling a twinge of envy walking past a black-tie event on my way home to do laundry, but I wouldn’t trade the people in my life for glamor and recognition. Beating myself up over Where I’m Not is a waste of my time and energy, and Where I Am is pretty great, after all.
Ahhh, now I understand the linkage.
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