I love David Brooks’ columns for the New York Times. He reminds me of my father, almost always. And never more than in his most recent piece, The Surprising Route to the Best Life Possible.
Dad and I discussed many things, ad nauseum, throughout his life. Our last conversation, on Thanksgiving 2017, was about books. Mostly I listened to him – there was an awful lot to learn from my father, who remains the most intelligent and interesting person I’ve ever met. The central point of conflict, if we had one, was Dad’s repeated exhortation that I find my passion. I simply didn’t have a central animating passion in my life, and this flummoxed him.
Dad, who had a master’s on Physics, a PhD in engineering, and made his profession in consulting, had a clear passion. It was Europe: its history, its culture, its religion, its art. One of the most powerful experiences of my life was in Europe with Dad, when we descended to the bottom level of Basilica of Saint Francis of Assisi and I found myself moved by something powerful, inchoate, inexpressible. I stood in the basement of the Basilica, crying, unable to say what had grabbed me. I’ve never forgotten that moment, but still, I was unable to translate that feeling into a response to the question of “what’s your passion” that Dad was forever asking me.
Brooks discusses the development of a passion, the kind of fervent love of something beyond ourselves that drives a life. He unpacks something I have personally struggled with: so much discussion of the “big” topics (in this case, passion, and in mine, memory, time, maturation, parenting) feels general and in that, generic. Brooks is interested in the specifics, as am I. He writes compellingly about how “…the process starts in mystery. Like falling in love, these ignition moments happen at the deepest layer of our unconsciousness,” and then discusses how the calling or vocation grows through curiosity and exposure. I thought of Dad going to Germany on a Fulbright and then seeking out experiences in Europe (of which I was the happy beneficiary).
Eventually the craftsman loves the process, not just the product. I think often of the Chris Stapleton line that always, viscerally, reminds me of dad: “the hard roads are the ones worth choosing.” Dad believed in his marrow in the value of hard work and challenge, and I’ve internalized that entirely. Carol Dweck’s assertion reminds me of Dad: “Effort is one of the things that gives meaning to life. Effort means that you care about something.”
Oh, Dad. Thank you for showing me by example what it is to love something outside of yourself, even if it’s not what you do to make your living. Thank you for demonstrating the value of a rich and manifold life. I’m still working on expressing what my passion is, but I think it’s something to do with words and expression of the universal.
You were my first and most influential teacher, on all fronts, and I think of you every hour of every day. I’m not sure my “passion” will ever be as succinctly described as yours, but I am profoundly grateful for your example and guidance.
