(Every day this November I’ll conduct an interview with an imaginary person.)
What are you suposed to do? I don’t know. I don’t know. There are plenty of things I’ve learned over the years by diving in—by ordeal. I’m kind of comfortable with that technique, actually—but it seems inappropriate, or at least unfair, to apply it to fatherhood. Maybe it works if you start with a newborn, but when you start with a fourteen-year-old, how can you possibly dream of not screwing the whole damn thing up?
Do you think you’ll really do that?
I don’t know. Kathy seems to think there’s no reason to be worried, but of course she’s going to think that. She’s an optimist by nature, but even more than that, I’m sure the human brain must have some subconscious process that filters out any thoughts that the man you’re about to marry and the boy you’re trying to turn into a man might somehow lead one another to become disturbed, distressed, depressed…
She may not be worried, but I do expect it to be the biggest challenge of my life. My brain doesn’t feel as supple as it used to—I celebrated my fiftieth in the spring. And here’s a boy—Chris—who, a year and a half ago, I had not yet been introduced to.
I doubt it will be catastrophic, but there’s a lot of space between catastrophe and success.
So you’ve never been a father?
No. I was married for a long time, but Shea and I were both focused on our careers, and I think we knew on some level that we didn’t really like each other.
I wasn’t even a big brother. Even that might have helped me to develop at least a few of the basic instincts.
What about your own father?
He isn’t alive any longer. But he did an okay job. He got me through childhood and adolescence in one piece. How difficult could it have been? I wonder. I don’t know the answer to that. It would be nice to know when I make the jump.
Posted November 21, 2009, 9 pm
