THE LITTLE MAN

Mom  1985

 

When I was a young boy, perhaps 4 or 5 years old, my mother would occasionally give me a special treat, unexpected and unrelated to anything I did or did not do or to any holiday or celebration. It was usually something to do with art: crayons, a coloring book, perhaps a set of watercolor paints, and occasionally there was a piece of candy or a pack of gum. She told me a little man had brought them for me, and I had no problem believing her. Although I never met this little man, and never inquired about his identity, he became an important person in my young life.

The little man quietly disappeared in the years that followed. I don’t remember ever asking about him, and although I may have forgotten him, he never forgot me. That little man gave me so much more than an occasional special gift. Quietly and without my awareness (blinded by the self-centeredness of youth), the gifts continued, gifts that would remain with me for the rest of my life, helping me navigate the years ahead.

The little man was remarkable, wise in ways that cannot be taught. He had the uncanny ability to see people as they really were, to understand them and be sensitive to their needs and their failings. One of his greatest gifts was the ability to make people in his presence feel appreciated and special. He was devoted to me, loving and caring, but wise enough to trust me to go out into the world to become what I was intended to be. He never asked for anything in return, and wanted only for me to be happy. I have spent my entire life standing on his shoulders, and intend to remain there until the day I die.

The “little man” left us on a gray December day in 1991, but her gifts to me, and to others in her life, have endured endlessly. 

Mom  1985

Mom & Billy Mattioli in our front yard circa 1955

Standing on their Shoulders

They had little to give but themselves, which they gave freely and abundantly.  Josephine, who never knew her father, at age eleven had to leave her home, quit school, and move into an apartment with three older brothers to assume all household duties.  Spartaco, known to all as Duke, lost his mother when he was eight years old. The youngest of four brothers, he left school after the eighth grade to work on the family farm, while his brothers and 3 older sisters completed high school and college or business school.  Life on the small farm for my parents was defined by unrelenting hard work, financial insecurity, and more than their share of  personal disappointments and illnesses.  Comfort and happiness were found in their large, extended family and friends.

It took forty years of living for me to fully appreciate all that these two remarkable people have given to me.

I am 76 years old, and not a day goes by that I don’t think of my parents.  (My mother died in December, 1991, and my father in the autumn of 1995.)  I don’t know if this is unusual for someone my age, if it is because I was an only child, or if it’s because I am such a sentimental softy.  I suspect the real reason is because they were remarkable people, and that they gave me so much.  Ironically, in spite of all the writing that I do, writing about them is very difficult for me because I’m afraid I will not do them the justice they deserve.

But I believe that I am the person I am because of my parents. Whatever I have accomplished of worth, and may yet accomplish, is the result of the gifts given to me by my family. 

The greatest of these gifts was a sense of self worth and self-esteem, which have allowed me to choose some of the difficult paths I have followed in my life.  I believe there is no greater gift parents can give to their children than a strong sense of their own self worth.

My parents taught me about love; they taught me about tolerance and forgiveness, and they taught me about humility.  They showed me that a person of worth treats everyone with the same respect and warmth, and that behavior toward others is determined by their humanity and not by their social position or importance.

They never spoke about these beliefs; they simply lived them because that is who they were.  Pretention was foreign to them.

I believe my life is a reflection of these two remarkable people, and I want it to be worthy of them.  My greatest responsibilities have been to live a life honoring their gifts and to pass these gifts on to my children and loved ones. 

After 76 years I’m still standing on their shoulders.

THE GIFTS OF RESPECT, TRUST, AND UNDERSTANDING

From the small book of GIFTS - Volume II of the Trilogy

 

It was an A-ha moment that I still remember some 35 years later. My oldest daughter was 13 years old when it hit me like a slap on the head: parents can do and say all the right things and still not have total control over their child’s destiny. I believe this is one of the most difficult aspects of parenting, understanding and accepting the fact that we never have complete control. There are many elements in our children’s lives that are beyond our reach. Failing to acknowledge this, and the excessive imposition of parental will and control can be just as harmful as neglecting parental responsibilities. Wise parents know when to step back and show trust in their child, when to allow them to make healthy mistakes, and when to accept their decisions - never easy calls to make.

My parents trusted me. They set boundaries and made it clear what was expected of me, but at the same time gave me room to make my own decisions, both good and bad. They never discouraged me from pursuing some project or diminished my ideas. I was never expected to take over the family farm; it was an unspoken given that I would go to college to prepare for a career of my own choice. They did not push me into one direction or another. My first choice was pharmacy, no doubt influenced by my years of working in our local pharmacy. After one year in pharmacy school I decided my future was in medicine, and my parents accepted that, despite the hardships it would create for them. I knew they were proud of me. They had accomplished what so many of their generation tried to do, to see that their children had a better life than they did. I can only imagine what they thought when I told them that I wanted to pursue art, not as a hobby, but as a career to be shared with medicine. The only thing they asked was if I sure this is what I wanted to do”. Any disappoint they may have felt was kept to themselves, and they offered me nothing but encouragement. My parents never failed to respect my decisions.

Respecting and accepting choices of those we love and care about, especially when they are different from, or in opposition to our own, is often difficult to do. But doing so is a testament to our love.

Respecting views and beliefs that are contradictory to our own is vital to the well being of our society. It is a gift that is ours to give.

A SENSE OF PURPOSE

          

 

For the first 35 years of my life I gave very little thought to what might be considered a purpose or meaning to my life - I simply lived through the years day by day.  The only major decisions made were my choice of medicine as a career, and getting married after my second year of medical school.  Everything else just seemed to follow, including three wonderful daughters.  It was only after I reached my mid thirties, facing a crisis of sorts in my professional and spiritual life that I really became aware of who and what I was, and what my life was meant to be.  In many ways, my real life, my inner life, began at that time.

So much has transpired and evolved since then, including my own sense of purpose and meaning, and the ways I have chosen to live my life, but a few things have remained constant, and continually re-affirmed over the years.

Everything that I am and all I have accomplished, I owe to my parents.  Through their own lives, as simple as they may have appeared, they gave me the direction and attitude to become the person I was intended to be.  The longer I live, the more I appreciate them, and their gifts to me. 

One enduring sense of purpose I have is to honor my mother and father by becoming everything that I feel called to be: a husband, a friend, a father, a physician, and an artist, and to do so to the best extent possible.

Of all that has been given to me, the most precious has been my sense of self-esteem, and self worth.  I’m not sure when I first became conscious of this, but the older I become and the more contact I have with others, the more I realize just how critical this has been to me.  I grew up knowing I was loved and appreciated, feeling very secure and good about the person that I was.  When people feel good about themselves, they expect good things from themselves.

Another very enduring sense of purpose has been my determination to pass on to my children this same gift of self-esteem and self worth.   I want them to have the advantages that were given to me.  I once thought that when they left college and struck out on their own there was little more for me to do for them...but I’ve since realized that was not true.  The task of nurturing their souls is one I will claim for as long as I live, and hopefully even beyond that.

from the journal, 12-4-01