But I failed tests at school, thinking I knew the material well and not
bothering to study. A quick tempered insolence got me into trouble with
neighbors, alienated teachers and often caused my father embarrassment when I
would mouth off in front of his friends.
If Dad
introduced me to an adult on the street, I’d grab the man’s hand and say, “Hi,
I'm Dave Griffin. You've probably heard of me." Some of his friends
laughed. I’m sure the others wished he would put me in my place, but one can
tell a 16 year old very little.
My
driving was particularly irksome to Dad. It’s safe to say he feared for his
life while riding with me, so it is to his eternal credit that he even allowed
me to drive his car. From his point of view, I needed to learn the rules of the
road and I required a high degree of supervision behind the wheel. To me, I was
chauffeuring an old fuddy around town, regaling him with solid driving tips
while the poor man thought he was teaching me to drive.
Had he
been a mean person, he might have told me what an old girl friend once said to
me: “You may not be much, Dave, but you’re all you ever think about.” And in
fact that was the key. There was nothing more important to me than Dave. But
Dave wasn’t doing so well.
I
remember myself as a teenager, sitting lonely in the center of my own universe,
writing the script so my future would turn out the way I wanted. But in the
staging of the scenes, I was a second-rate actor who often forgot his lines or
stumbled while crossing the stage. And in playing the main character, I was
just trying to become someone I had invented. I could act my heart out,
impersonating the successful know-it-all I wanted to be, but I was unable to
master the real roles in my life … student, son , brother, friend. I risked
failing to become a real person because I was trying to be someone I wasn’t.
The cock-sureness of my youth masked my
natural feelings of inferiority. As I stumbled through my high school years, I
began to know the disappointing truth that like many other teens I had never
really accomplished anything, had never formed a truly selfless relationship
with another and never stood up to honestly take my own measure. Since I was
too young to admit it, I was left to cover my confusion with a blanket of
arrogance. That covering wouldn’t last forever. Eventually it would shred away,
and underneath would be found either a boy simply getting older or a man in the
making.
I don’t
remember how it happened. I know the process wasn’t clean and precise. A woman
played a significant part in it, spending most of her life with me on the path.
For her, maturity was inevitable. For me, it was a long road with uncertain
directions and a changing landscape. But I eventually got here, and today I can
say with confidence that I am indeed a man. But I am only a man. And although I
will sometimes sit in the center of my own universe, I seldom set up camp
there. It’s too lonely a place. In the wider universe … the real one … I am not
alone, I am not in charge and I am no more important than anyone else.
copyright, 2014
David Griffin
The Windswept Press
Murrells Inlet, South Carolina
www.windsweptpress.com
