I grew up with two sisters, a houseful of girls. When I began dating boys, I knew little about them. One reason I married my husband was his admiration and caring toward his mother. Frank was a “manly man,” but his tenderness and attachment to her flowed from a very deep place inside him. In fact, both of his brothers were the same way. I’d never ask Frank to pick her or me; I know who’d win.
My sisters and I bickered with my Mom and at times the drama was higher than prime time. My mother was all kindness and light, but that didn’t matter in a house full of raging female hormones seeking independence. I observed Frank and his brothers with nothing short of awe. I knew I wanted a boy for my first child; I wanted to see if I’d have what my mother-in-law had.
Now, I live in a houseful of boys. What I’ve found in a house of three men is so much more than I ever anticipated.
Sometimes, we women complain about men; well, a lot of the time. But, it’s important that more often, we put the shoe on the other foot and look at the men in our lives through lucid and appreciative eyes. My three are not one dimensional or flat paper dolls. They are sometimes a conundrum. They are like me, and women in general, in many ways, and yet in other ways, they are so different. They cannot be generalized or lumped into any group. Just when I try, they say or do something that surprise me and remind me that I cannot classify, control, or coerce them.
My husband is kinder than I am, more thoughtful and giving. Carole Radziwill says in her book, What Remains: A Memoir of Fate, Friendship, and Love, that in every relationship, there is a flower and a gardener. I gulped when I read that. Frank is a gardener in every aspect of his life – literally, with the small patch of vegetables and berries out back to the tending he does toward the people close to him. He is extremely attentive. He cares for, plants from seed, encourages growth, feeds and waters, touches gently, and patiently tends his work, his wife, his sons, and his yard. It takes a big man to be with a woman who is an independent thinker; he has only ever encouraged me, never shied from me. If one plus one can yield more than two, it’s due to a gardener nurturing so that synergy of two people together yields four, five, or twenty.
My older son is a renaissance man – lover of women but a seeker of justice and revenge and never one to shy from confrontation or someone that he considers disrespectful or just plain “wrong.” His thinking has been complex and mature for his age, but at other times or in other situations, narrow minded and black & white. He’s a poet through and through and follows his own moral compass. He thinks deeply; he debates passionately; he plays music from the depths of his very core.
My younger son was always my cuddly son. He inherited from his father the kindest of traits – honesty, caring, nurturing. He is agreeable. He, too, is an artist who appreciates his time alone, being in his own head and using his hands. Have my boys become gentle men because of their parents’ influence or environment or completely due to genetics?
My men are special to me, but they’re not any more special than your men or all men. Every human being has good and bad traits. Every one wants the same things – to be loved, noticed, appreciated. If we can each seek out the good and the admirable that every man (and woman) possess, we can build a better bond with others. I challenge you in this new year to think about your men among men and all the good they bring to you and our world. Without trying to classify them or put them into a cookie-cutter mold, let’s honor what makes them tick and so uniquely them.
(photo: Monhegan Island, Maine)
