Aoife Henry

The poet Philip Larkin was a cynic at the best of times, particularly around the role of parents. He is known to have said that his parents’ relationship taught him two things: a) that people should not live together and b) that children should be taken from their parents at an early age. In his poem, This Be The Verse,  he writes:

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.   

    They may not mean to, but they do.   

They fill you with the faults they had

    And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn

    By fools in old-style hats and coats,   

Who half the time were soppy-stern

    And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.

    It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

    And don’t have any kids yourself.

While I have seen examples of the truth in his words , I am grateful that more of my lived experiences with my parents contradict old Phil’s hypotheses than support them. Yes, I have learned not to do some things from my parents by example, but I have also learned from them other things to do to be happy. Here is a summary.

Be ambitious for happiness, not for wealth or status

My parents are doctors, but they never formally invested their professional time into the lucrative industry of private medicine. They could have made a significantly greater income if they had, but it didn’t interest them. They worked hard to achieve the life they wanted: a home that the kiddos, all grown-up they may be, all still enjoy coming back to; unrestricted investment in things that make life easier, more comfortable or more fun without ever approaching the line of hedonism (notably more investment for the comforts of other people, their children in particular); and holidays they remember. That is all.

“The best decision is the one you made.”

My father has always been my safe haven when I have a decision to make. All he does is ask questions, listen to my answers and thoughts, reflect them back to me, and encourage me to call as many times as I need to repeat the process to converge to a decision. He never pushes me one way or another. When I make the decision, whatever it is he congratulates me on it and repeats the line that titles this section. Once a decision is made, it is time to move forward, make the best of it, and assert that it was absolutely the right one.

“Just get on with it.”

You’re feeling down, you didn’t sleep well, you had a bad day, you’re annoyed with yourself, you’re ruminating about a recent f**k-up etc, etc. My mother would empathize with all of this, while gently encouraging you to pick yourself up and move on. You’re going to have to do it at some point, so it may as well be sooner rather than later. Ruminating more is not going to save you. Getting up and moving is the first step in you saving you from yourself.

“If you were sorry then you wouldn’t do it.”

We are surely all familiar with the uncomfortable feeling that arises when we see ourselves doing something you don’t believe is morally right in real-time, and yet we continue to do it. For me, an easy example is giving unsolicited advice. When my siblings and I were lil’ ruffians, if we walloped each other and spat “sorry” at each other afterwards, my father would say the above. The idea being that true apology implies regret for what you did, and if you really feel the wrongness of that behaviour, then you just wouldn’t do it. This doesn’t qualify for the first time you do something wrong if you didn’t have the awareness of its wrongness, but it does thereafter.

“Friends don’t count favors.”

Nor do they treat you any differently if favor has come your way or left you bereft. Whether you’re rolling in riches or taken a hit, true friends (which may or may not include blood relatives) are steadfast in the way the relate to you and support you. I don’t feel indebted to a friend when I ask them for a favor and nor do I keep track of the favors I’ve done for them. I don’t keep track of how many times I called them vs. how many times they called me, or of ‘whose turn’ it is to pay for this or that. When you spend enough time with a good friend, chances are that it all evens out. Even if it is the case that you contribute more to the relationship than the other, or if you are more interested in maintaining the relationship than the other, I am at peace with this possibility, because we have so much more to lose in terms of lack of connection if we don’t reach out to people, than we do from a disparity of interest in the relationship. Another golden nugget from the father.

Thriftiness over stinginess.

On one hand, my father will walk an extra mile to avoid paying for parking. My mother would always rather cook in rather than eat out on an average day. Conversely, I have seen Dad fill two large trolleys full of fancy foodstuffs at Marks & Spencers to gift to the doctors and nurses that worked in his team for Christmas, and my mother welcome friends, strangers and everybody inbetween into her home for dinner or just a cup of tea. They are thrifty people in that they don’t buy into excess, but they never hesitate to express generosity to others, or to provide for their three children.

The Sufficiency of People and Laughing for a Good Time

My family home, and extended family homes, have always been full of laughter, joking, banter and stories. For me, the people and their expression of themselves are at the heart of true quality time with other people. Arranging the activity, the setting, the food, the accommodation etc. are all of secondary importance. We will figure the logistics out as required. To enjoy company, we just need the people and a readiness to express ourselves, through laughter, or tears or long talks, whatever the needs of the people are.

Stepping into apprehension.

When I first moved to Boulder during the pre-vaccine days, I promptly found two options for accommodation. The first was sensible: an economical graduate student housing sublet close to the university with two, married, graduate students. For an identical price, the second was riskier: a “vegan co-op” advertised on Craigslist with a very illegal number of humans and associated non-human animal friends in North Boulder, a longer bike ride from where I would be studying. During deep-pre-vaccine-COVID, may I remind the reader. I called my Mammy for advice.  “Ah, go with the vegans”, says she. That simple decision has opened up a community of people I love and depend on now. Nice one, Mam. She has always supported me to step into adventurous, unknown situations if there is no serious risk and the chance of good experiences to gain.

“The world is full of suffering and we are the cause of our own suffering.”

Dad strikes again. He jokingly claims that these are the first and second tenants of Buddhism, which I have never fact-checked, but he’s got a point. We are the only ones who can make ourselves happy, and we do not have the power to enforce anybody else’s happiness. We can empathise with others, and we can dig ourselves out of our own ditches. That is all. Let go of all responsibility to do anything more than support friends where they need it, and reclaim full responsibility for taking care of yourself.