Showing posts with label curandera. Show all posts
Showing posts with label curandera. Show all posts

Monday, April 1, 2013

Parents as Bridges


In the following passage, the elderly curandera Rafaela meets with Barry Sullivan in a barrio tavern.  He is just beginning to face difficult choices ahead. She speaks of parents as the bridge from heaven to earth-- a sentimental, yet powerful picture of the vulnerability of children in the world. Adults must stand on this bridge between heaven and earth as the Guardians of childhood.
           
“You might be done with the saints, but they aren’t done with you. They yearn for you to wake up to your responsibility. You wait on a bridge between heaven and everything else—spanning dangerous waters. Like the guardian angel.”
           The room chilled around Barry, as he remembered the picture Ma gave Ceci.         
            “From the moment of conception, Barry, our purpose is to guard our children from harm. Every parent is to be a bridge between heaven and earth. A child only knows heaven. Crossing into the world with all its trouble, the child is in peril. The parent is like that guardian angel, offering a hand to guide the child over the broken places. Our love makes it up to them for having to leave heaven.”
            “How—how can a lousy, no-good man do the work of an angel?”
            “Full intention, Barry, that’s what it takes. You can’t be a parent part-time.”
            “That’s the same axe Carmen grinds. Listen, I have to work, Rafaela!”
            “Everyone works, but not so far from their children. Until Cecilita is stronger she needs you close by.” She tapped her heart. “Right here! Later, she will be strong enough for you to go sometimes. Please stay with her now, amigo. Care for your daughter. Help her heal. . .not from a distance, but close up!”

Friday, January 18, 2013

Dads and Daughters


"Who a daughter gets as the most important man [father] in her life is pretty much the luck of the draw, for better or worse. That luck of the draw fills the heart of every woman with sadness, emptiness, anger and longing; or perhaps joy, confidence, compassion and empathy. Every woman is a daughter, and every woman's emotional abundance or desperation usually has more to do with her father than any other man in her life." -Kevin Renner, author of Fatherhood: Daughters Praising, Speaking Up, Talking Back, writing in the Oregonian in his "Dads and Daughters" column.

A thick strand in the tapestry of themes of Saint Sullivan's Daughter is the importance of fatherhood, not only to the daughter but to the father as well. When a man becomes a father, then the arc of his personal development can't exclude his children. If he rejects parental responsibility, he is but a stunted version of what destiny would have him be.

The curandera, speaking to Barry Sullivan, makes it clear that until he fully claims his parental responsibility, he will never fulfill himself as an artist.  In the early 1960's (the time in which this story is set) fathers were more of a necessary accessory than a vital actor in childrearing. While writing Saint Sullivan's Daughter, my quest was to uncover what would occur in a dysfunctional family if the father were to fully accept his role as the protector and nurturer of an at-risk child? 

Without dropping spoilers, I can reveal that the wise elders of the Irish and Mexican families counsel Barry Sullivan regarding how he might grow as a parent.  Though this is a story of the Mid-century Modern era, I believe the themes still resonate in our Post Modern era. Parents still struggle to make sacrifices for the sake of their children's well-being, and when the extended family and older friends cooperate to help young parents, they help heal the wounds of dysfunction. 

A wise neighbor, a committed grandparent, a counselor or loyal friend can do wonders to heal a situation when the "luck of the draw" (as Kevin Renner calls it) deals a child an unprepared and floundering parent.  Even the best of us are clueless at times. Parenting is a task that shouldn't be attempted in a vacuum.

Consider giving Saint Sullivan's Daughter as a gift to a new or young father. Young fathers can relate to Barry Sullivan's struggle to balance his creative and parenting life, especially when facing single-parenting.