In a series of memorable essays,
Terry McManus reaches into daily life and reveals the extraordinary thoughts and
feelings of the men we call husband, father, brother and son. Thoughts and feelings that most men usually keep to themselves.
Did you know that many men worry alone in the middle of the night about their family’s
well being? Do you remember how your father’s hand felt in yours when you were
small and how reassuring that was? Are you different from your brother or
sister but still so close? There is something to learn about yourself and the
men in your life in this book, a book you will want to share with your family
and friends.
That Terry McManus would turn out to be an author is no coincidence. Coming from a family of writers and poets, Terry began his career as a songwriter in the 70's. Then, when he married and started a family, he added the career of a Community College Professor to his music credentials. While Terry's family grew, as might be expected, he was inspired to write about the experience. He turned to the art of essay writing as his means of expression. Some of the essays were published in a national newspaper and the very positive reaction from the readers encouraged him to write more. The result of Terry's inspiration and talent is the book; "Husband Father Brother Son".
These
are my private thoughts. I, like many other men, keep my own counsel on many
matters. I don't mean to ruminate in the middle of the night, but it happens.
Contemplation is the companion of silence. The small hours of the morning seem
to lend themselves to quiet reverie. Women are right you know. Men don't talk. At least not about what's really on our
minds. We can talk about love and
feelings when the mood hits us or when we're reminded, with varying degrees of
good or bad humour, of our lack of attention. . That is not what I mean when I
say we don't talk. No, it's a lot more complicated than that. We men have a
secret society that meets in the dead of night. We may be wide-awake in bed, or
sitting in the kitchen. We could be on
the 20th floor of an apartment building staring at the streets below or
standing at the window of a rural farmhouse searching the darkness for an answer. What is it
that we are keeping to ourselves? It is
our feeling of responsibility. It is the belief that, in spite of all the
claims to the contrary, the burden for our family’s health and happiness rests
solely with us. This may not be the feeling of every culture and every man in
this culture, but it is my belief and many men share it. This is my family and it
is my job to shepherd them through this night. Through this life.
It is so easy to become complacent sitting in my now
quiet suburban neighbourhood. I have no
doubts that living in this place and in this time makes me one of the most
privileged men to have walked on the face of the earth. My family wants for
nothing physically. We have our normal conflicts, but we can always reach past
the angry words or gestures and touch the love that is the foundation of our
lives.
Still,
I am vigilant. I take nothing for granted. It can all change in the blink of an
eye. I have seen it. You have seen it. "Enjoy life my family!” we say.
"Sleep well my family!” we say. We
will watch and we will keep it to ourselves.
I
finish my milk and put the glass in the sink. Before I turn off the lights I
check the doors once again. Upstairs I look in on the children once more and
then I slip into bed beside my wife. She stirs and I shape to her body. I post
my sentries and then I close my eyes and sleep.