THE OFTEN TRAGIC HUMAN CONDITION

I was minding my own business, ( which I don’t sometimes do) lying around on a Sunday evening, trying to catch a rest. When a knocking came on the door to my brain. The lyrics/ song from the Harry Chapin song “The Cat’s In The Cradle.” we’re upon me.

I had a lot of titles in mind for this post. One of them was, “Flaws Of The Human Make-Up” another… “The Things We Do To Those We Love, and then say, I love you.”As you can see I ended up with something else, as you look above. But these other potential titles might be kept in mind. I have found that, many words are available on the ”word mosaic” that often appears before me when I lie down and close my eyes. But the art is in choosing the right ones to say what you want to say, and have it make an impact. Eureka! I give you the blessing/bane of writing. It can be internalized, deadly and vicious. ie: Earnest Hemingway and Sylvia Plath,to mention just two.

Question: Have you ever listened to a certain song a ‘thousand times’ and then one moment, it seems like you never heard it before, as it lands in the middle of your chest, ‘full force’ and demands your attention, whispering, “To a certain degree, you have lived this.” This is exactly where I found myself this evening, thinking of my daughter Lauren.

The great Harry Chapin wrote: My child arrived just the other day. She came to the world in the usual way. But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay , She learned to walk while I was away. And she was talking ‘fore I new it and as she grew, she’d say “I’m gonna be like you dad.” You know I’m gonna be like you.

Read all the lyrics to this wonderful song, for a fuller story. Now skip to the final lines. … I’ve long since retired, my daughters moved away, I called her up just the other day, I said I’d like to see you if you don’t mind, she said I’d love to dad, if I could find the time, You see my new jobs a hassle and the kids have the flu, but it’s sure nice talking to you dad, it’s been sure nice talking to you. Now as I hung up the phone, it occurred to me, she’d grown up just like me, my girl was just like me. Note: In reality, my daughter, Lauren, had not grown up to be just like me, she was way better than me. Due to her mother and grandparents and my mother and others. Early, she grew up without her father, although I tried to be part of her life at many junctures, It seemed it just wasn’t meant to be. This is the often occurring tragedy of the human condition.

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