For the Present

I

You are offered a trip back in time. To what period would you like the time machine to take you?

I suppose a bunch of would-be Athenians are tucking up their togas in anticipation of a dialogue with Socrates or a sit-down with Plato at the Academy. Meanwhile, neo-Elizabethans are dusting off their doublets as they look forward to quaffing some sack at the Mermaid tavern alongside Will Shakespeare and buddies. Dreams of Versailles float through the heads of others longing to be set down in France during the reign of Louis XIV. Still other times and climes for other folks.

However, would-be retro-travelers who who take the bait and answer the question all do so with a false assumption in the back of their minds. They believe that the time machine, besides giving them calendrical freedom, will also give them a desirable social and economic status as well. In other 
words, one cannot assume that once back in ancient Athens, one will have entree into Plato’s orbit. What if one’s role in life turns out to be that of a low-or-no-status person at the time, like a woman or a slave? 

And if your travel ticket is for Elizabethan London, you may indeed find yourself in the Mermaid tavern, but not as a patron, but as the potboy.

PRINCE HENRY

Come hither, Francis.

FRANCIS

My lord?

PRINCE HENRY

How long hast thou to serve, Francis?

FRANCIS

Forsooth, five years, and as much as to--

POINS

[Within] Francis!

FRANCIS

Anon, anon, sir.

PRINCE HENRY

Five year! by'r lady, a long lease for the clinking
of pewter. But, Francis, darest thou be so valiant
as to play the coward with thy indenture and show it
a fair pair of heels and run from it?

FRANCIS

O Lord, sir, I'll be sworn upon all the books in
England, I could find in my heart.

POINS

[Within] Francis!

FRANCIS

Anon, sir.

PRINCE HENRY

How old art thou, Francis?

FRANCIS

Let me see--about Michaelmas next I shall be--

POINS

[Within] Francis!

FRANCIS

Anon, sir. Pray stay a little, my lord.

PRINCE HENRY

Nay, but hark you, Francis: for the sugar thou
gavest me,'twas a pennyworth, wast't not?

FRANCIS

O Lord, I would it had been two!

PRINCE HENRY

I will give thee for it a thousand pound: ask me
when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it.

POINS

[Within] Francis!

FRANCIS

Anon, anon.

PRINCE HENRY

Anon, Francis? No, Francis; but to-morrow, Francis;
or, Francis, o' Thursday; or indeed, Francis, when
thou wilt. But, Francis!

FRANCIS

My lord?

PRINCE HENRY

Wilt thou rob this leathern jerkin, crystal-button,
not-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-garter,
smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch,--

FRANCIS

O Lord, sir, who do you mean?

PRINCE HENRY

Why, then, your brown bastard is your only drink;
for look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet
will sully: in Barbary, sir, it cannot come to so much.

FRANCIS

What, sir?

POINS

[Within] Francis!

PRINCE HENRY

Away, you rogue! dost thou not hear them call?

Here they both call him; the drawer stands amazed, not knowing which way to go

Henry IV, Part 1

II

If you could live your life over, what would you change?

I have a confession to make: When I summon up remembrance of things past, I almost always stir up from the depths of my mind bad memories. Memories of my errors, crassness, rudeness, pettiness, and on and on (though I wouldn’t go as far as a friend of mine who, after many years, went to confession and told the priest, “I have broken all the commandments except 'Thou shalt not kill'”). 

I wish that I had been a nicer person—politer, more caring, less self-centered. But would I opt to change my past? No. I do not wish to go back to any fork in the road of life and choose the path not taken. Sure, I might have found more happy days, though I might have found more misery instead. Then again, I might not even be around to write this. 

But most important, a wish to change the past, means a wish to eliminate all that happened in the first place. And in my case it would mean that I would erase from existence my daughter and grandchildren. 

What selfishness it would be—even greater than the selfishness in my past—to deny them life in exchange for the possibility that I could have had a bit more pleasure in my life.

So, it is not out of complacency or smugness that I say, “Let the past be.” 

Families Triptych--Rockwell

Who is the most famous American painter?

Which is not the same as asking, Who is the greatest American painter?(1) I had a particular artist in mind, but I wondered what the internet would offer as an answer. A Google search of the introductory question yielded very little response. The closest any entry came (the one at the top of the search list) was from a site that churns out top 10 list after top 10 list.(2) On that list, the number one place went to Andy Warhol—which I guess can reasonably be argued—for famous he was. It seems to me, though, that the painter who for many decades of the past century would have had claim to that title was Norman Rockwell. 

My first thought when thinking about Rockwell is that there is no ambiguity in his work. His patriotic paintings—like The Four Freedoms—are straightforwardly patriotic. His comic vignettes—like the sailor whose arm is covered with the crossed-out names of previous girl friends getting the name of his latest amour tattooed below the others—are comic. Even his rare political commentary—like the portrait of the little black girl escorted by marshals on her way to integrate a school—is uncomplicatedly plain in its intent. 

Consider this painting called “Walking to Church” from 1952:

It would seem to fit in with other Rockwell religion-themed paintings—the nuclear family neatly off to church—but with a little dig (perhaps) at boozehounds as they pass a shuttered bar and grill on that Sunday.

*

But . . .

And this is what the whole blog is about: Another Rockwell painting—this one from 1959—entitled “Sunday Morning.”

I look at this Rockwell, and for once I see ambiguity. And I’m trying to figure out which side Rockwell is on.

Is he, as in the “Walking to Church” painting, celebrating Ozzie-and-Harrietish whitebread-eating middle-classness, all prim and proper coloring-within-the-lines? In which case, the pantomime villain is the father, still in his pajamas sprawled out in his chair with the Sunday papers messily on the floor, next to his breakfast. A slob in contrast to the oh-so-neat mother and daughters in their white gloves and son in his pants suit with bow tie and little peaked cap. And it’s maybe even worse. I suppose that the service the quartet are going to will feature an anodyne sermon, probably about good works. However, what if the minister (for I assume it’s a Protestant church they’re off to) is a Bible-thumping fire-and-brimstoner? Then those sweet churchgoers are implicitly leaving daddy behind to burn in hell.

When I first saw this painting years ago, I thought—and still think—that this painting is quite different from other Rockwells: that Rockwell has introduced ambiguity into his work, and behind that ambiguity lies satire.

When I looked, I saw the girls and the mother, with their holier-than-thou noses in the air, deliberately snubbing the father-and-husband who has spent all week working to provide for their neat little existence in their neat little suburban house and to pay for their barf-enducingly-cute little flowery hats and white gloves. The son, all quizzical, looks over to his father, as if wondering, is he my role-model? Can he fathom that the man deserves his day of rest?

To sum up:

If Rockwell is not doing what I think I see here (or is it, what I want to see here?), and is unambiguously on the side of the Bible-clutchers, then I hate this painting as much as I hate any painting.

But I hope Rockwell, like me, disdains the false piety of those who can go off to pray—with their noses in the air—without leaving a little love behind for the man sprawled in his chair.

*

Now, I really would like to know your opinion. Am I right to discern an underlying satire in the painting? Or, perhaps I’ve got the satire wrong, and it’s directed at a father who is failing in his duty.

So, help me out on this. There’s a space below to offer your views. I really would like to know what you think.

Thanks.

***

(1)  A question I would never ask. I believe we shouldn’t descend to the invidious practice of attempting to measure greatness, but to gratefully accept all outstanding performances. 

(2)  https://www.learnodo-newtonic.com/famous-american-painters

Families Triptych--Out the Door

In March 1967, Svetlana Alliluyeva left India, where she was visiting, and a month later arrived in New York City. This was not a case of romantic tourism, but an act of personal and political freedom. And Alliluyeva was not just any traveller, but the daughter of Joseph Stalin. Refusing to return to the Soviet Union from India, Alliluyeva left behind a son and a daughter; the latter would never speak to her mother again.(1)

*

My grandfather carted samples of soap all over England until his retirement. I was always thinking of what it was like to be him. My mother never spoke of him, absolutely hated him, changed her name to have no association with him.
Laura Cumming(2)

*

Five weeks ago, the Guardian (UK) published an article entitled “‘I wish I’d told Dad how much I hated him’ – when children ditch their parents” that asked the question: “What pushes someone to cut all ties with their mother or father.”(3)

The article received 1114 reader comments. 

While not all the comments added to the litany of family boycotts, cut-offs, and back-turnings of the original articles, very many of them did. The article and comments made for very grim reading. Having myself had a moderately decent upbringing, I had to second the response of one reader, who wrote,

[I]t makes me incredibly grateful for having the parents and the upbringing which I did have, where Mum & Dad's respect for one another was glaringly obvious, and their devotion to their children paramount.

The reader went on to say, 

 [I]t makes me feel inadequate in terms of relating to those who were not so fortunate.

It what ways were the unfortunate ones unfortunate? Here are some examples:

“Mum’s first love was always men, and when I was 15 she moved to Africa for a boyfriend without telling me. . . . She has contacted me since but always asks for money. That’s why I made the decision to cut all ties with her.”

 ^

Andy hasn’t spoken to his mother for 25 years, after they stopped communicating in his early 20s. . . . He says he was never praised for his achievements, only criticised for doing things wrong. “Whatever I did, it was never good enough. If I did well at something, my dad would always have to prove he was better.” 

He later realized that his parents’ views were “snobby, sexist, bigoted and racist.”

^

Following decades of gaslighting and other toxic behaviours, my mother chose the day we learned my partner was going to die, imminently, to tell her what she thought of her. Unfiltered bile, abuse, lies and spin. It was both shocking and absolutely devastating. . . . I am now 16 years no contact and life is better for it. If your parent demonstrates consistently bad behaviour you are completely entitled to ditch them and not feel bad about it.

Those are just three examples. There are hundreds more tales of abuse (mental, physical, and emotional) on the Guardian’s pages. And when one considers that these are the stories related by the readers of one newspaper in one country at one point in time, one can only wonder at the amount of family misery that must exist in this world.

One is relieved that some victims of family abuse are able to escape by cutting off contact with family members, however hard that might be. 

*

In a “July 2019 Joint Letter from Secretaries Azar [Health and Human Services] and Pompeo [State Department] on International Partnerships,” those two Trumpian worthies urge other countries to “defend the family as the foundational unit of society vital to children thriving and leading healthy lives.”(4) Which is rich coming from a government led by a thrice-married, multiply-adulterous president.

And especially hypocritical considering the policy of forced separation of parents and children at our southern border.

At least the separations of parents and children reported in the Guardian article were voluntarily decisions of adults.

***  

(1)  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Svetlana_Alliluyeva

(2)  https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/26/books/interview-laura-cumming-five-days-gone-mothers-disappearance.html

(3)  https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2019/aug/27/i-wish-id-told-dad-how-much-i-hated-him-when-children-ditch-their-parents

(4)   https://www.hhs.gov/about/agencies/oga/global-health-diplomacy/protecting-life-global-health-policy/joint-letter-july-2019/index.html