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Executive Times |
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2006 Book Reviews |
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Why Do I
Love These People? by |
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Rating: |
*** |
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(Recommended) |
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Click on
title or picture to buy from amazon.com |
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Family Readers will be cheered and depressed
after reading the stories of the 20 families Po Bronson selects in his new
book, Why
Do I Love These People? After interviewing about 700 people, Bronson
settled on 19 families and his own to describe the struggles, challenges and
joys of life in relationship. Everything you’d expect about modern American family
life appears on these pages: unconditional love, abuse, infidelity, divorce
and illness. Bronson knows how to tell a story, and each chapter will engage
readers in the story of a family. Here’s an excerpt, from the chapter titled,
“Bumpkin,” pp. 70-77: The day Gabe
stepped onto that bus to But when Gabe left, that notion was unacceptable. It was absurd to
consider himself saved, incongruous to consider himself redeemed. It was time to redeem his
own life—and nobody, not even Jesus, was going to do it for him. The only way
to return to a state of grace was to ensure that his son turned out all
right. Doug could no longer trust his son to God, or trust his son to the
poor example of other men, or trust that his kid would be all right because
he carried Doug’s genes. He was not going to leave something this important
up to fate. Doug had let circumstance play too great a role in his own life
and that of his son. He had let guilt and shame come between him and his
purpose. Doug took a new vow, this one to himself: Whatever it takes. The future would be decided by his actions
today. Doug took the “I realized I needed to get
out of there,” Gabe said. “Doug had kept the door
open, always assuring me that if I wanted to come back, I could. I realized
that Doug was a decent guy. To hear that he was trying to move down to be
near me—that he wasn’t giving up—that kind of effort on my behalf was
something I hadn’t had, and it was something I needed. I called him and told
him I wanted to move back. That was the first step to actually having a
father.” Gabe moved back into Doug’s mom’s house in “I could see my mom’s
side,” Doug said. “Gabe was a kid few would love,
at a time in a boy’s life when it’s hard to find a lot there to love. My mom
has a short fuse. He pissed her off.” His mother laid down her
terms: Doug was welcome back but not Gabe. She
wanted him out of the house. Doug was livid. (Their relationship has never
quite recovered.) Doug went to Gabe and told his
son, “We’ll go live in a hole in the ground if we have to, but we’re staying
together. I have traveled too long a road to get you back, and nothing and
no one is ever coming between us again. Whatever it takes. If that’s what you
want. We are a team.” Gabe did not hesitate. No man had ever said
anything like that to him. “Yeah, that’s what I want.” Despite having only
unemployment for income, Doug found an apartment and the two moved in
together. Gabe had his own bedroom. A month later
Doug finally found work, there in “That did it for me,” Gabe said. “That triggered the bond. It convinced me to
stick with this guy. He’d proven he really cared, proven he was serious. He
was willing to fight for me. It meant a lot.” Doug struggled to steer Gabe onto a good path. Treating him as a peer had already
failed. Yet Doug had only started to earn Gabe’s respect,
and Doug did not feel entitled to be an authoritarian. It was a thin line to
walk. He had to show consideration for Gabe’s
boundaries, too. So this time, there were no absolute rules. Doug tried to
lead by example. He drank very rarely, and only in moderation, because Gabe had seen a lot of irresponsible drinking. When Gabe brought home D’s and F’s on his first report card,
Doug made it clear that he wasn’t mad and he understood that in Florida
nobody had even made Gabe go to class, which hadn’t
been permissiveness but neglect. Ensuring Gabe did
his homework was a way of caring and looking out for his son, not being a
hard-ass on a power trip. Gabe seemed to get this
idea, didn’t rebel, and responded quickly. Even though Doug was parenting by
feel, on the fly, he believed that communicating carefully—making those
little distinctions—made a significant difference when added up over time. Gabe slowly found common ground with the
new man in his life. One day they went to a car show. Doug suddenly saw his
own stepfather at a distance, and pointed him out to Gabe.
“You’ve got a stepfather, too?” Gabe asked. “I haven’t seen him since I
was fourteen,” Doug answered. “Should we go talk to him?”
Gabe offered. Doug returned, “No, he was
kind of a bastard.” Doug’s mom had married the guy when Doug was twelve. He
was a drunk, and when drunk he would challenge Doug to fight. Doug never took
the bait. Gabe realized he and Doug had very
similar experiences of being fourteen years old. Gabe also came to understand why his father
had never married. Doug offered a variety of answers, but they always ended
up with this logic: “I was afraid to get close. I didn’t want anyone to take
your place. I was always afraid if someone else entered my life, I would lose
you forever.” They only had one big
fight. Gabe was sixteen. He had gone somewhere
without telling Doug, and did so in a way that flouted the only principle
Doug had—that they let each other know where they were. Doug went out hunting
for him in his car. Eventually he found Gabe at a
friend’s and dragged him home. As they came into the kitchen, Doug explained
why it was important to call, how they needed to work together. Gabe continued being a butt and a smart-ass, resentful of
being yanked away from his friend’s. Doug lost his patience. He grabbed Gabe’s shirt, held him against the counter, and told him
to respect whose house they were in. Gabe pushed
back and the shouting match took off. Within a few exchanges, Gabe became enraged, and finally his real accusation came
out, something he’d needed to say for so long: “Where were you all those years! Why were you not paying child support?” “What?!” “You heard me!” “You’ll have to talk to
your stepfather about that! I was paying
support. I was around. And not
because some court ordered me to do it. I did it because it was the right
thing. Then I was told to leave. Your stepfather wouldn’t let me be in your
life.” “That’s not what I heard! I
heard you didn’t want me!” “Is that what he told you?
I know your mom didn’t say that to you! She knows I was always a good man.” “I was never in your
plans!” “You were a surprise, but
not a mistake! Your mom and I loved each other!” “Then where were you?!
Where were you?” Gabe stomped upstairs. Doug fell on the
couch and cried. Thirty minutes later, Gabe came
back down and stood half defiantly at the bottom of the stairs—a peace
offering. Doug immediately apologized. “I just want to be a good
father, Gabe. I’m trying to be a good dad. I’m
sorry if I’m doing a lousy job. Please, help me figure this out.” “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t
know the facts.” “No, you’ve had a right to
ask and you never have. I know I’ve hurt you by not being there. I can’t
change it and will never pretend I have. I’ll always be making up for lost
time. You not being in my life was entirely my
responsibility.” Doug did not date while Gabe was in high school. He saw nothing inherently wrong
with doing so, but he wanted to ensure that Gabe
had a stable environment after so long without one. He wanted Gabe to know that he was all that mattered. They worked
out together at the gym, and played tennis and basketball. Doug became a
great listener. Gabe learned to talk to Doug about
anything. He discovered that Doug was unlike other men—nothing Gabe did or said ever made Doug fly
off the handle. One time Doug came home early from a trial in A few weeks later Doug was noodling on his guitar in bed when he heard Gabe come in with friends. Doug plodded downstairs and
found two girls with his son. Doug made enough small talk to be polite, then
gave them their space and headed back to his room. Later, Gabe
came up. “What’d you think, Doug?” “Of what?” “Of Jen.” “She seemed nice. I barely
talked to her.” “No, man! Did you see her
legs?” The eighteen-year-old was
in love. Doug knew what that was about. He also knew how hard it is to turn
young love into a stable adult relationship. He and Gabe
talked at every turn—how not to be threatened, how to give each other room,
how to tell the truth, how not to expect her to be the same as you in every
way, how to take a break when you’re about to say something you don’t mean. Gabe married Jen six years later, and they’ve been
together nine years now. They own a fairly big new home on a cul-de-sac. She
works for a regional bank, and he drives a delivery truck for Anheuser-Busch,
which is a better living than you’d suspect. They are in no rush to have
kids. For his part, Doug has
worked as an attorney doing Social Security law and family law, and he’s
taught at Doug and Gabe have a strong relationship today. They talk all the
time; they’re best friends, kindred spirits. “He’s the best man I know,” Doug
said. “A man of quality and character. A better man than I was at his age, a
much better man.” Gabe returned, “He has never judged me. He
has encouraged me in everything I did. He has never forced preconceived
notions on me of what a son should be like. He is happy for me to be my own
original self. He mostlyjust listens. So the few
times he does have something to say, it always means something, and it’s
always an influence on my decisions.” When pressed for how he did
this, how he created such a bond with his son, Doug thought about it awhile
and said, ‘All I did was provide a stable environment
and a constant presence. The rest I let him figure out.” Both Doug and Gabe are observers. Neither is the first in a crowd to
offer an opinion or make a statement just to hear his own
voice. Their lives are quiet, and contentedly so; the chaos in their past
barely echoes anymore. Gabe is developing into an
articulate person, but Doug is truly there. He’s not eloquent in an oratorial sense, but rather, he chooses his words
carefully to pin down exactly what he feels. Being a father by feel taught him
this. The word fortunate comes up a
lot. It’s a privilege to have this relationship with his son, a kid he
basically walked away from—it’s beyond anything he could ever ask for. He
considers himself a very lucky man. He’s grateful to Gabe.
He’s grateful to Wendy, who encouraged Gabe to have
a relationship with him, and who has never lacked forgiveness for what
happened when they were eighteen. Not bad for a couple of
bumpkins. Redemption had come. Doug reflected, “Most sons
work so hard to earn their father’s respect. I worked so hard for six years
to earn my son’s respect. When I finally had that—when I was worthy of his
admiration, when I’d redeemed myself in his eyes—my whole life collapsed into
a moment. It broke my heart. I did it.
I managed to be someone he respects. That’s all I need.” The week before I visited,
Wendy moved back to town and, needing a bed, she took Gabe’s
old room until she could get settled in her own place. That morning, she was
gone before Doug awoke. A couple of hours later she walked back in wearing
her new Wal-Mart uniform. It was her first day on the job, but nobody had
been there to train her. “She looked as good as
ever,” Doug could not help saying. “She looked great.” Gabe paused and chuckled softly. He knew
what Doug was really saying. “Doug, I figured out you were a one-woman man a
long time ago.” While reading Why Do I
Love These People? many readers will think of
the opening line of Leo Tolstoy’s Anna
Karenina: “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy
in its own way.” For parts of these twenty stories, we see an unhappiness
that can become overwhelming. We also see the power of love. For many
readers, Why Do I
Love These People? Will be affirming and encouraging. Steve Hopkins,
February 23, 2006 |
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2006 Hopkins and Company, LLC The recommendation rating for
this book appeared in the March 2006
issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/Why
Do I Love These People.htm For Reprint Permission,
Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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