Will and Grace

The following post is in three parts and was conceived from thoughts I've had during a boring seminar, a discussion of Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography with friends and a personal contemplation.

So many of our most revered historical figures disappoint in heartbreaking ways.  No matter which founding father, noble ruler or trailblazer a person chooses to honor, every one of them will fall short of Superman.  It can be a perplexing thing to discover those faults, but inevitable.

The question that led to all of this:  How would William Franklin feel about his father and should it matter?  The answer that gives me peace is Grace and it surprises even me.  Yet, without Grace, I don't think I could keep Benjamin Franklin as a hero.

SEMINAR (on yellow lined paper)

I am listening to a listing of credentials in a seminar where people like to pat each other on the back.

Is this what life is supposed to be?

When I referenced BBQ's with doctors in a previous post, I imagined these stuffy gatherings to be akin to an intellectual buffet.  More like a trough of .... never mind.

I am now eating an apple and you would think I rang a gong.  That's not to say no one is surfing the Internet, just that the herd must scoff and, well... here I am.

I continue to eat my apple, but louder now.



Each person projects what they wish.  I think they all want me to know they play golf.  I do not play golf.

I used to be a climber of ladders.  I think I climbed high at one time.  What exists on top of the ladders we climb?  I think, maybe, shrines to ourselves live on the tops of ladders we climb.  Why do we climb?  To receive pats on the back from those whose backs we like to pat?

What about the White House?  People do nearly anything to scale that ladder.  Raise a billion dollars. Scare people into a lather.  What does the winner win?  Recognition in history books, but familiarity remains only to a president's contemporaries.  After the contemporaries die, a president becomes a picture in a book with a narrative the president cannot control.

And what does THAT matter when the sun eventually eats the earth centuries after we are gone?

All that said, I love Benjamin Franklin (even though he was never a president).  I appreciate success.  I no longer seek it like I used to or climb ladders in the macro sense.  I want to climb the ladder at my office, be really good at my job and never leave. I think I want that so I can be a good father.  I guess that's what I'm trying to sort out.

And, this is where I have a problem to reconcile.  Ben Franklin sacrificed much for his success.  Unlike most, Franklin's success measurably helped the lives of a majority of the human population at the time with lightning rods, efficient stoves, bifocals, and more inventions than I can remember.

But, he was not the best husband or father.  He was at best absent and at worst neglectful.  I believe the facts of his life bear this out as the the only possible spectrum.  So, how can this be reconciled or, more likely, accepted?

Was that result a necessary sacrifice?  It sure seems to be.  Then I remember that the lure of a self-shrine on a ladder is pretty strong.  Would a devoted father and husband have been capable of so much measurable good?  Can the two traits be reconciled?

Benjamin Franklin was away from his wife for the better part of 15 years.  He pretty clearly stepped-out on her and at best played chess with women in bath tubs.

I wonder, how did William, his son from a previous relationship, feel about that?  Ben's estrangement from William, I believe, gives us a clue.  Although they parted ways on loyalties to country, loyalty to family probably severed the final connection.

I am certain William would have probably chastised his famous father if granted another meeting with him posthumously.   The rest of the world would gladly meet Dr. Franklin and pick his brain and pat his back (especially if he were at this seminar), but William may well prefer to punch him in the nose.   I can only imagine the rage William would have felt and how meaningless lightning would seem in light of the hurt.

Which reaction do you think Ben would dwell on more?  William's physical or verbal assault, or the millions waiting to shake his hand?

And, because all of our remains will burn at the same rate when eaten by our sun centuries after we are gone, what matters more?  If I had the talent of Ben Franklin, maybe I would have to consider a sacrifice for the greater good.

I do not, so I stopped climbing instead.

I assumed I would climb ladders in my third and most recent field, and why would I not so presume?  After all, I was a maniacal ladder-climber in my second field (journalism) and sat myself at Time, Inc., in Manhattan at the age of 22 with an eye to a permanent return as soon as possible. Although I must confess to having no aspirations for my first field (fast food), I rather believed my trajectory would bend toward ambition.

Until recently, I was not sure why I shifted focus.  To determine why, I change scenes.

DISCUSSION AMONG FRIENDS

I am a book-pusher, and I have convinced many to read the Autobiography.  I also discuss it with friends regularly and had recent occasion to flush the book out more thoroughly than usual.

So, I asked myself before the discussion with friends, "how would William feel about all of this?"  Would William ride his father's carriage?  Would he keep it as a shrine of sorts?  Would he rage against Ben's memory?  Did William become an absent parent to his children?

If one million people lined up to pat a reincarnated Ben Franklin on the back, but his son smacked him in the mouth, what would he remember?   My mental conflict is that Ben Franklin's absenteeism resulted in help for the entire planet's population as well as many from subsequent generations.  Are the feelings of his family even relevant? Even religious beliefs struggle with this math.  It is tough. 

A pragmatist would insist that the math works out.  A better world for a majority of the population would be worth one unhappy family and then some.  Hundreds, even.  I cannot fight the math.  The consensus among friends was that reincarnated Ben would be satisfied and focus on the omelet and ignore the broken eggs. They all seemed to think Ben would see the math and be unmoved by William.

I cannot say anyone is wrong, but I strongly disagree with that.  My understanding is that a person with low empathy is clinically a psychopath and Ben Franklin was no psychopath.  Where I saw an empathetic author who led a rigid life, others saw cold calculation.  Pragmatic does not exclude empathy.  If I believed otherwise, I would be lost.  Therefore, I believe this strongly.

I choose a different focus.  If I were in the shoes of our theoretical reincarnated Ben, there would not be enough pats on the back to make me forget that I hurt my son or wife.  Although Ben Franklin made his choices, I do not think that means he would fail to wince when presented with the broken eggs.  I cannot believe he was a monster, and to react like that makes him such in my mind.

I remember how focused I was to reach Time, Inc., (I realize an internship isn't the same level, but it's the scale I have and was accepted as a "measurable success" by some, so I use it.).  I know how all-encompassing that focus can be, and must be, to climb even small ladders.  I remember fending off questions about the wisdom of my engagement in light of my career path while in New York.  I also remember a glimmer of revulsion at that notion of work over marriage even while living in the city that never sleeps and walking the (metaphorical) marble halls to work.  The message was clear:  "If you are serious, you know where your focus should be, and it isn't with family."  Nothing felt good about that, especially for sports journalism.
  
Yet, I am satisfied.  And I think, if reincarnated for a day in the distant future, I would prefer to bank on a hug from my son while I walked the streets unrecognized and unnoticed to the mere chance that strangers would give two cents about me or pat my back.

We need ladder-climbers and I used to be one.  Somewhere along the path, I stopped wanting that.  I realize that my choice is also selfish, and that is what makes this a tough topic for me.  Assuming I could offer something beyond the joy of one family, it is certainly not pragmatic.  Yet, it is what I want.

I may not be 100% convinced that this is right, but it feels that way to me because I am not willing to climb at Jacob's expense.  I would not handle a smack in the mouth well if granted a posthumous day with my son.

Which begs the final question:  How can we reconcile the good with the sad in our heroes?

GRACE

I spent my first phase of this little project in solitary contemplation surrounded by walking, talking and back-patting metaphors.  I then surrounded myself with friendly ears and learned much from the discussion.  But, I resolve my thoughts on the subject with a final, quiet internal contemplation.

I see Grace as the only workable exit. Grace has many definitions and inspires strong feelings. To me, it remains ultimately forgiveness and mercy given without expectation and born of deep love.  Score keeping is out.  Hindsight, too.  Speculation as to motive or wisdom must stop.  Grace requires unreserved pardon followed by embrace.  There is no greater gift and no greater salve contemplated by human kind. 

Whether a person comes to Grace as evolutionarily-necessity in a tough world or through religious teaching, its power cannot be denied.  I'm as surprised as anyone that my thought-path led to Grace, but here we are.

Grace is granted for its own sake.  It does not keep score.  It comes without condition.  It allows closure where none seems possible.  And, it allows us to function.

To consider Grace is to turn the focus to include William (although I'm sure Ben could use some too, as we all could).  With his father gone, who is left to blame for his stress?  Who makes him grind his teeth?  Who pressurizes his arteries and erodes his blood vessels if his father is too dead to do it? Who makes him want to strike a man who did so much good?  William, and William alone (again, if he even felt that way).

And, who does vengeance serve when it strains a circulatory system?  Were William to be gracious, on the other hand, he may even be relieved to learn that his father was capable of fault or just happy to see him again.  Grace frees us from self-torture and allows us to move on.

Whether for his own survival and comfort or for his salvation, only Grace would serve William and keep him from striking the old man down.

Only Grace allows us to forgive the inexcusable.  Every other tool will leave us grabbing at air.  And for that reason, I choose to forgive the sins and absorb the lessons of a great man who was as human as anyone else.