I’ve noted on many occasions that I love words. Words are powerful tools which help us explore the world around us. But when a person possesses the talent to attach words to music, then magic can happen, and I can be moved to powerful states of emotion. Music can lift me to lofty levels of happiness, dare I say – to levels of Nirvana?
Bands can have a commanding influence on adolescents trying to break free from their parents’ tutelage and control. It happened to me with the Beatles. After seeing them perform live on the Ed Sullivan show, when I was in 7th grade, I wanted to grow my hair ‘long.’ And that’s when a cascading litany of verbal disagreements with my dad began over the length of my hair, a battle that continued all the way through high school and into the Air Force, where they cut it all off. Dad finally got his way.
Hair length in the mid to late 60s was a big deal. For example, John Labig (class president at the time) was stripped of his class presidency (class of 65) because of his hair’s length. I graduated in 1969. And back then we had a dress code. I could not wear jeans or sneakers (or any other sort of cloth shoe) to school, and the length of my hair, in front, had to be at least an inch (two fingers) above my eyebrows.
Verbal altercations with my dad became so intense (over my hair) that I remember saying to myself “if I ever have kids, I won’t give them any crap about the length of their hair” and this is where the story actually begins.
Nirvana released their first album ‘Bleach’ in the summer of 89, followed by their monster hit LP, ‘Nevermind’ in 91. This Seattle-born, alternative, grunge rock band sprang up from Kurt’s dad’s tiny one car garage, and the rest is history. They became the nation’s top alt. band and solidified their position, once and for all, with the release of ‘In Utero.’ I loved Nirvana back then and I still do to this day.
But – and it seems like there is always a but
My oldest son, Brian, not only liked Nirvana’s sound, but he also wanted to look like Kurt Cobain, long oily hair included. Brian, in the 90s, wore his hair down to his shoulders. It even looked like Kurt’s in that both fellas are/were dirty blonds.
Brian was in his first year of high school when he lobbied for not washing his hair. I told him he could wear his hair as long as he wanted but it must be clean. Wow – this was going to be my ongoing battle with my eldest boy (clean hair). I never saw this curve ball coming, but in hindsight, I should have. Brian came out of the womb, prickly and has remained so to this day. If you look up the word porcupine in the dictionary you will find a picture of Brian.
But as it turned out, we came to a compromise. I didn’t care if Brian’s hair looked oily; I just wanted it to be clean. I found a cleaning product on the market for washing horses that left their coats looking bright but also somewhat oily and shiny looking. Brian began washing his hair with this horse product during his sophomore year in HS.
Boom – problem solved! Ha-ha – this problem was followed by a million more, but unlike my dad, before me, I worked with my kids to find cooperative solutions to our eleventy million disagreements and for the most part, joint resolutions were always available.
I very seldom went nuclear on my boys, that is, I didn’t say stuff like “Do it because I’m bigger than you, or because I said so.” I never threatened my boys. I didn’t call them names. I didn’t hit them. I didn’t bully them. I listened for their input during conflict resolution. I played with them. And I had reasonable rules for them to follow. I was a single dad and thus outnumbered 3 to 1. So, I picked my battles carefully and won them all decisively. These battles were almost always based on issues of character, like lying, stealing, cheating, etc. I used my dad as a role model for raising my three sons. Whatever he did or did not do while raising me, I just did the opposite. I used him as a reverse barometer and/or compass. I praised my boys in public and “coached” them in private. And I must have done something right because they still like to hang out with me. And we still have family playtime – with poker, and disk golf, leading the way.
In closing, growing up, I hated the words – “Because I said so.” They often/usually lacked creativity, understanding, or compassion. They are words that my dad used because he was too languorous to try a different approach, I guess. My dad was overall, a good man. He struggled in the dad department, however. Like most of us, dad had his own league or legion of demons to deal with.
