Son of an Automobile Mechanic, 12/3/13
I see much of the world through my father’s eyes. I see some of the Japanese invasion of the Philippines and feel the pain of leaving others behind in fleeing the island. I feel the prejudice he felt of being a half-breed; I suspect I still feel some of the sorrow of the Trail of Tears. I feel his hope in growing up in America where tomorrow looked better than today. I feel his commitment to education when he would hold up his hands, gnarled and permanently greasy, and then point to his head and say “make your living with this, not these” while holding up his hands again a little closer to your face where you could smell the grease.
My strongest identity in life has always been, “I am the Son of an Automobile Mechanic”. When I showed up with a billionaire in Monte Carlo without the proper attire to a five star restaurant, my social class was obvious. All those management meetings where I sided with the employees (not often enough in retrospect), that was my identity crying out for fairness. When I point out Congress taking care of themselves and giving the crumbs to the common man, that is my identity demanding justice.
I have modified my identity, mostly through education, but even my dad would understand that. I’m agnostic with a simple moral code that demands honesty, kindness, and courage. I have joined with a partner that embraces diversity and cherishes personal freedom such as: the right to be gay, or to form relationship of your own design with one or more other persons, or to be a hermit for that matter. But, I carry on the family traditions of working hard, being my brother’s keeper, and the desire to be a better person tomorrow.
I am a son of an automobile mechanic.
