Exclamations (not Explanations)

The name of my column is "Exclamations". I emphasize that this is not "Explanations".

I will strive not to offer explanations. The reason for that will become clear, but it is expected, in one's first issue of a column, to offer an explanation for its existence, so forgive me this initial explanation.

A couple of years after my father died, my mother discovered a tape she had made of one of his many lectures to our family. My father was well read. Even though he never finished college, he had a passion for learning and understanding, especially in science, social science, and politics. We were handed down, and still hold, many volumes of National Geographic, Scientific American, science fiction paperbacks, and many other, more learned, books. On that day that will live forever in human history, we were all woken up to witness the first Lunar landing. I remember my father telling me once that, perhaps, taking a copy of Marx's Communist Manifesto to high school, in our conservative community, to read between classes might not be such a good idea. At the very least, I should be careful to keep the butcher-paper wrapper he'd put around it in place.

Unfortunately, the audio tape my mother had recorded was of pretty poor quality. Most of it is unintelligible noise, but there is one point where my father's voice comes in clearly. One of my older brothers makes a remark, off mike, and my father leans over and says, "Shut up! I'm talking!"

Not "let me finish", just, "I'm talking!"

This is the only recording of my father's voice that I know of in existence.

It took me longer than my siblings to figure out what our father had done to us. He had trained us, not deliberately, but by example and experience, to never speak up unless we were completely sure of what we had to say, could say it quickly and succinctly, and would come to a positive conclusion.

Real conversation stoppers, we were.

Oh, my gawd! I just realized this (really!) My mother once told me that when I was young (a toddler) I would do something that was so cute! I would rush up to my twin sister when she started talking and say "Shut! Shut!" That was so cute! For a toddler.

My father was not a cruel man. Perhaps he was self-absorbed, perhaps arrogant. I remember a conversation I overheard at an early age between my father and my mother during which they decided that if the children needed spanking, then Mother would do it, not Father. Since that day, my father never spanked, or otherwise physically disciplined, me (or anyone else I know of) until that Saturday morning I said FU to my mother. He was across the room in a heartbeat, thrashing me across the face until I bled. Anyone who has raised a teenager would understand.

Through most of my life, I was afraid to say "Hi" to a pretty girl because I wasn't sure how the conversation would end. I never asked questions during my years at a prestigious institute of higher learning because I might appear to be stupid. Governing myself to speak only when I was sure of my position robbed me of many opportunities to learn, and stole from my life many friends (nobody likes a know-it-all). After some soul-searching, I grew to believe that I was born arrogant, but now I understand something different.

Some would say that it is inappropriate, even indiscrete, to tell such personal things about ones family in public. Don't speak ill of the dead and all that. Or don't even write about such sensitive topics in public until you are a really good writer. That's like saying don't play baseball in public until you're a really good baseball player. This whole website is about giving people the opportunity to try out their expression in public. It's not perfect (guess what? it never will be!) It's about letting people express themselves as best they can, so in the process they can become better at it.

So, about my column. I learned late in life (with my father's help) that questions are more important than answers. I will strive to give you exclamations, rather than explanations. Perhaps my exclamations will prompt you to exclaim, "What?" (or "Who?", "When?", "Where?", "How?", or "Why?"). Trust me, it is harder to ask questions that to offer answers. Perhaps by our leaping off of comfortable explanations, or even the need for them, we will both grow.