Working Men of my father’s generation were not allowed, or did not allow themselves, much emotion. I have never seen my dad cry and I don’t know if he ever has as an adult.
He used to rise before dawn for coffee; I wonder in those reflective moments, what he thought and what he felt. He is in his early 80’s now and his wife tells me he is opening up some about himself.
I was always nervous working with my father growing up. From my point of view he expected me to know more than I did, yelled too much, mocked me when I was afraid and when I cried.
Looking back he probably hated the tears trapped in his own heart. Mine reflecting that vulnerable child he had to bury too early in his own growing up.
Hard work is an American value, but if you have