About three decades ago, as my father lay dying, I visited him in his Florida hospice. He had always been a physically strong man, but now he was a shadow of his former self. Very thin, and unable to sit up if unaided, he could barely speak.
What is more, he had always been terrified of dying. But now, as the end was coming, He gurgled out, “ I want to die!” He did this in so emphatic and pained a way that I have remembered his words and tone ever since.
In any event, as he lay in his bed I went over to say some final words. As we looked each other straight in the eye, our arms clenched. He was not a powerful as he had formerly been, but his effort told me how important our connection was. Despite our differences, we were father and son.
It was at this point that I felt compelled to tell him what I had never previously uttered out loud. While I don’t recall the exact words, I essentially said, “ Don’t worry Dad, I will finish your unfinished business.” I will fix what you left broken.
My father did not live up to the expectations he and his family had for him. Given his intelligence, everyone assumed he would be very successful. Although he became a self-taught electronic engineer, by the time he was in his mid-fifties he could no longer find work.
In his final two decades, he spent most of his time alone in a darkened room, brooding about what he could not change. Up to this point, he had always tackled problems head on. His solution to every dilemma was to break down the doors that stood in his way. Furthermore, he expected me to do the same.
In fact, I resisted him at every turn. As a result, he labeled me a miserable and rotten kid. He also punished me whenever I violated his demands. This did not stop me from ultimately finding a direction of my own. From the beginning, I was determined to be my own person.
This turned out to be fortunate for me. It enabled me to find answers that eluded my Dad. Moreover, these discoveries permitted me to attain heights he never managed. They also convinced me that I could make my father’s life worthwhile by building on what he achieved.
Be that as it may, I have now written about how I got to where I am. In a book called, “Too Lazy to Chew: A Memoir of Discovery” I describe the tortured process whereby I got from unhappy child to relatively successful—and happy—adult.
My latest work is now available on Amazon.com. The paperback costs $12.00 because it is the longest of my recent books, while the eBook is $5.00. My hope is that this is not a vanity project, but a worthwhile contribution to understanding how personal change occurs.
For readers of my columns, this may provide eye-opening insights. Thus I have often been asked how did someone like me became a conservative. Given that I was born and raised in an extremely liberal New York Jewish environment, how did this happen?
The short answer is that it was not easy. Nonetheless, the way I did was embedded in a larger tapestry of change that is even more interesting. While I may be biased, I have found that the actual processes through we transform ourselves are more complicated than fictionalized accounts of them.
But let me answer another question. Why the title “Too Lazy to Chew?” What can that possibly mean? The answer is simple yet revealing of the circumstances in which I entered this world. In this case, they have more to do with my mother than my father.
As an infant I was force-fed. This led me to fight back against efforts to get me to eat. These continued when I changed over from the bottle to solid foods. As hard as my mother tried, I battled off the morsels of food she spent hours attempting to thrust down my throat.
Why I defied her was a mystery. It did not make sense. Was there something wrong with this child? Why wouldn’t he do what every normal toddler is supposed to do? There had to be an answer. Eventually Mom decided that I was simply too lazy to chew. That was why I left food uneaten.
How I discovered that this was not the reason for my conduct is one of the questions I answer in my memoir. As I also learned, I was not as lacking in common sense and courage as alleged. If you want to know more, you know where you can find it.
Melvyn L. Fein, Ph.D.
Professor Emeritus
Kennesaw State University
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