So, my dad called me this morning, to check up on us in the aftermath of Hurricane/super-storm Sandy.
So, this post is about, and for, my dad.
Other men, when they realize it, are blessed to have the fathers they have, and to love them, and know that their fathers loved them.
I am blessed with my dad.
Our conversation was organic, as it has developed to be over the years. One can even say, as it ranged freely over the topics both modern and ancient (cell-phones and Leonard Cohen's 'Alleluia' and the origins of the phrase 'deus ex machina'), that our conversation is 'free range.'
Oh, and to be true to that conversation, and its serendipitous nature, 'deus ex machina' is anachronistic. It is a LATIN resaying of the original GREEK phrase 'ἀπὸ μηχανῆς θεός' for, of course, 'deus' is not a Greek word at all, but a Latin resaying of the Greek word (they are nearly homophonious (another Greek word): 'deus' and 'θεός') are Dad was right there to point out that 'mekhane' is 'machine,' to be sure, but the original (specific) meaning was 'crane.'
Dad, when I explained all this to him, as he explained it all to me, was so impressed that he paused, just for a breath, and said, sadly, wisely, knowingly ... lovingly, 'Son, you are a man born in the wrong Age.'
Did you get that? My father, in his 73 years of wisdom, gave me the title of 'man.'
His son is not a boy any more, but all grown up, and he is so proud, and so filled with love.
Well, yes, all that, of course. Stiff upper lip and pip-pip.
AND ... he implored me not to use the word 'Luddite' ever again.
So, I ... 'tried' to promise that I wouldn't use the word 'Luddite' ... I paused, ... and was about to say 'today.'
But I knew I couldn't even last that long.
So, I told him that.
He laughed in shocked surprised at the unexpected joy of his son's utter and complete lack of propriety for this modern day's mores.
So, Dad, this one's for you. I will not use the word 'Luddite' in my blog or in conversation or three times in a sentence.
See me not using the word 'Luddite' at all today, Dad? I am so not saying that word 'Luddite.'
'Luddite,' 'Luddite,' 'Luddite,' ... I ain't sayin' it at all!
Ah, well: a Man's a man for a' that and 'it is right and it is just,' and all that.
Or, yes, as expected (sung martially in the mode of Horace): 'dulce et decorum est ...'
Yes, son (whispered sadly in the tone of Wilfred Owen): '... pro patria mori.'
I love you, Dad.
My last post was on Mothers' Day for my mother, and this next post here is for my father ... it is indeed sweet and just and right.