Sunday, January 16, 2011

Song therapy: Radiohead's "Exit Music (For a Film)"

artist: Radiohead
album: OK Computer (1997)
song: Exit Music (For A Film)

lyrics:

"Wake from your sleep
The drying of your tears, today we escape, we escape
Pack and get dressed, before your father hears us, before, all hell breaks loose
Breathe, keep breathing, don't lose your nerve, breathe, keep breathing
I can't do this alone
Sing us a song, a song to keep us warm, there's such a chill, such a chill

You can laugh a spineless laugh
We hope your rules and wisdom choke you now we are one in everlasting peace
We hope that you choke, that you choke
We hope that you choke, that you choke

We hope that you choke, that you choke"

This song reminds me of living at home with my parents when I was a teenager. When I found out it was produced for a movie based on Romeo and Juliet I was a little disappointed. I thought it was about a mother and a daughter escaping their husband/father. Shows you how self-centered people are when they interpret art.

My mom and dad didn't even fight well. My dad would scream and yell and call my mom and us kids abusive names, but my mom would just leave the room, sometimes lying in bed all weekend with a headache, or go to her hobby room and paint or make flower arrangements. I was my mom's therapist. She talked to me about how she'd like to leave him, but she felt guilty. She's a religious woman, and she thinks a person should stick to her vows. She also thought, like we all did, like the doctors told us, that my dad would probably die early, since he'd always had so many health problems.

I kind of feel bad for reflecting on this now, because my dad is an old man, approaching the end of his years in this life, and he's softened considerably. A few years ago he had his second bypass heart surgery, while he was spending the winter in Texas. He called me in Overland Park to tell me about the surgery, and insisted that I not come there "just to sit in a waiting room and worry." When we were getting off the phone, I gathered the courage and said, "I love you, Dad." It was the first time in my life I had said it to him. I was, what? 33 I think. He was 76, and he had already had one triple bypass surgery 21 years previously, when I was 12 and he was 55. He immediately, without hesitation, said, "I love you too," which also was the first time he had said that to me.

My dad and I had a strained relationship when I was growing up. I was a momma's girl. Since my parents didn't get along very well, I felt it disloyal to think of him in a positive light. He was a workaholic, and I was a smart, sensitive kid who questioned his authority. Once he called me a communist (the worst thing you can say from someone of his McCarthyism generation) when I was about 15 or 16 when I said I thought fishing was wrong. He said Jesus was a fisherman and I was a communist if I didn't think what Jesus did was right. I ran to my room and slammed the door after screaming at him "Jesus was a carpenter, you ignorant asshole!" I get my fighting style from the worst parts of both parents unfortunately. Scream and then retreat.

I have mellowed with age. I now eat the fish I once proclaimed were so victimized by our human slaughter. I no longer think my dad is as much as asshole as he is a person who did the best he could with what he had to deal with, just like most people I know. He might have been a decent father to someone less confrontational, less rebellious, less sensitive. We were a bad fit.

A few years back, even before he'd had the second heart surgery, I could tell he was mellowing out too. When I was growing up, I thought my dad was so materialistic. What was most important to him was his job. To make money. He was an accountant, but he was so grumpy all the time I question whether he actually liked his job, his house, his cars, his bank account.

When I told him I was dropping out of college to become a part time library page and try to write a novel, he blew up and told me I was stupid and I'd never make any money working at a library or trying to be a writer. He was right - I don't make much money as a library worker, but most days I look forward to going to work and helping people find things that matter to them, and how many people can say that? I haven't published a novel yet, but I'm still working on it. I feel the pace at which I've been working on it, uh, well, uh, 24 years, is, uh, good for my soul.

A few years ago, Dad met me for lunch at the Chinese buffet for our shared love of gluttony. He was telling me about his new step-son Ron's house being built in Arizona. He said it was worth a million dollars. I self-deprecatingly joked, "Wow. And I was just all proud of myself for finally renting an apartment that had a washer/dryer hook up!" Without skipping a beat, my dad said, "Yes, well...I don't think Ron's any happier with his life than you are."

I felt like I had been punched in the gut, but not in a bad way. It was the first time I felt like my dad approved of me.

No, I could never talk to my dad about things that really matter to me (like this song for instance) - and especially the usual hot-button issues of religion or politics. We've always been strangers for the most part, really. But over the years, we've grown to become more like neighbors. We leave each other alone for the most part, smile and wave every now and then, support each other during times of crisis. We are connected through our genes and having lived together for 18 years, and I catch myself emulating him, for good or for bad, in many ways. I'll never be able to say I'm a daddy's girl. But at least I can honestly say I no longer hate my dad, and even though I don't always like him, I do love him.

So when I listen to this song, I think, wow, my dad and I have really evolved. I don't listen to the song and remember the bad times as much as I reflect on how much better our relationship is now. For instance, although at one time I did, I certainly no longer hope my dad chokes. But the song helps me know I'm not alone in my feelings, and that I'm not a horrible person for having once wanted my dad to die. In fact, now that he's closer to life's edge, I find myself hoping there's a little trampoline on the other side.

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