THE MENSCH AND THE PHILOSOPHER

JANUARY 20, 2022 – Blogger’s note: This post is dedicated to my wife, the ceaselessly caring, loving mother of the mensch and the philosopher.

As in politics, so in families occurs an aversion to the loss of control. My grandfather Holman controlled family affairs with an iron fist, even after all the iron was out of the fist. His son, my uncle, then ran things with a selfish fist, until there was no fist. Even then, the reins were wrapped tightly around sociopathic wrists. It made me furious until I realized I couldn’t change him—but even more important, that (a) he was the reason my mom had met my dad; and (b) my uncle had taught me how to ski and inspired me to travel—hallmarks of my life.

Then there was Dad. No one worried about his competent, even-handed approach to matters of family, finance, and property . . . until his demise, when matters landed in my lap.

Now comes a new generation. Closest to me are two sons, a mensch and a philosopher. Whether my own days are long and many or short and few, I’m thrilled to have reached a juncture where with full, confidence I can hand off the baton and take a ringside seat in the Coliseum of worldly affairs where the mensch and the philosopher can spread their wings and soar above the fray.

Our sons were adopted from “Land of Morning Calm.” Han and thousands of generations of Eastern influences contribute much to our sons being universal “mensch” and “philosopher.” Not by the Mayflower or immigrant ships from Sweden did the Western origins of the rest of the family constrain our sons—or their deep-souled Korean-born cousin.

Take first the youngest—the mensch, recognized as such by all family members. He’s risen in conventional circles by being unconventionally smart, disciplined, empathetic, outgoing, adventuresome, and a natural-born leader. To him I’ve delegated authority in the disposition of far-off family-owned properties—a multi-year project that for over a century was the strict purview of iron and selfish fists.

What pleasure I derive from his signature on family contracts!

Then stands his older brother, who from a tender age struggled deeply with place and identity and spent more time off the rails than on them. Yet, in constant pain, he developed a commensurate understanding of heart and soul—and by extension, the plight of marginalized members of society. With expressive gifts, he’s found the means to open our minds to his suffering.

He descended into hell but bounced so hard off bottom brimstone he caught a lofty vision of a better life. Atop his mountain range, he’s set an angel, his daughter, our granddaughter. He now works at a dream job in preparation for which he’d paid real dues of hard work and hardship. He excels at his vocation, to the admiration of all who observe his skill, work ethic, responsibility, and insistence on perfection.

And he has become ever more the articulate philosopher.

What more could I achieve than to witness and long relish, the graceful assumption of my hopes, my vision, and my leadership—as it were—by our family’s mensch and philosopher?

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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson