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Show r'7 never been easy to i n t e g r a t e the two halves of my l i f e - my family and school - and now, with Brian, three forces at work, it seemed more impossible than ever. But perhaps there was some common denominator of the American male spirit, something t h a t bonded Brian and my father despite their near-opposition. In my l i t e r a t u r e classes I had seen a pattern: from Walden to Huckleberry Finn, from Hemingway to Kerouac there was a c e l e b r a t i o n of the unfettered spirit, of the man who refused to be t i e d down. Whether cowboy or outlaw, d r i f t e r or mountain man, tycoon or romantic, the common denominator of the American male seemed to be the refusal to s e t t l e down - whether i t be on ground, government, philosophy or woman. The 'pioneer s p i r i t ' - that was what my father had called the adventurousness that made his fifteen-hundred mile t r i p northward a pleasure, a regeneration. I thought he must have enjoyed those years of roving back and forth, despite the s t r a i n . He had always enjoyed driving, loved scenic travel and new people and places. Perhaps he had even revelled in having the law on h i s t a i l - not wanted it to happen, but once i t was a fact of l i f e , had learned to love the flow of adrenalin i t brought with i t and had taken energy from the persecution i t s e l f , a sort of signature on his deed of righteousness in entering the Principle. ('If the world hate you, ye know t h a t i t hated me before it hated you.') Perhaps l i f e was a l i t t l e dull for him after all those years of t r a v e l and turmoil, of g r i t and fear and persecution. Just as our l i f e was dull and a n t i c l i m a c t i c for Brian. |