My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Monday, July 28, 2014
The Unexamined Contract
Since he got sick he seems bewildered, uncertain who to blame and for the moment he attaches his anger and disappointment to almost anyone or anything. He has yet to blame God, though I think he may want to. It was with God he had made what seemed an agreement -- well-being in exchange for praise and compliance. His belief allowed for a notion such as "testing," but because he already had such a firm belief he doubted the need for "tests" in his own life. No, it must be because of someone or something else. In the meantime, the landlord, the city government, the water department, the newspaper, and a few others will have to suffice. They get to be blamed for their limitations, and the limitations in what seemed a contract can go unexamined.
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