no track for this one...nothing really fits.
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it's a city year tradition to "earn" one's uniform for their service year. not necessarily to weed out the folks who are in it for the free timbos, but to offer corps members and staff an opportunity be introspective...to ponder on what brought them to city year and what will drive them thru a challenging 10 months. on the day before opening day, the day of our installation into americorps and city year, we hold a bomber dedication ceremony. the bomber is the most iconic portion of the city year uniform. it's nothing too special; a bright red windbreaker with the CY logo on the front, an american flag on one sleeve, the americorps logo on the other, and "city year" on the back. wait, i mistyped; it's nothing special to the average person. ignoring the simplicity of its design, what the bomber represents is the idealistic spirit that courses thru each member that wears it; it represents the pledge that each member has taken to devote their time and energy to enacting positive change in the communities they serve in; it represents that future that our country can achieve if service were put before conflict. to the children in the communities we serve, that bomber symbolizes love, support, and appreciation; that's special. as i said, we dedicate our bombers to whomever or for whatever we would like. and i was scared.
i didn't want to just do something hackneyed and trite because i take my year of service very seriously, regardless of whether others around me do not. i thought about the influences i've had, both positive and negative, and decided that when it came time for me to share who i was dedicating my bomber to, i would just speak. no forethought, no preparation, just talk and keep talking until...i dunno. i guess i didn't think about the ending. people before me were dedicating their bombers to friends, family, loved ones, past students, children, themselves...all of them were touching and beautiful. i held back tears on numerous occasions at the depth to which people were willing to expose themselves to people they've only known for at most, 3 weeks. we sat in a circle, fresh to death in our new uniforms, silently absorbing each other's passion, dedication, and hope. then it was my turn. and i was scared.
i swallowed hard. my throat tightened as if i no longer could control my heart (perhaps i couldn't...) and i just spoke.
"i dedicate my bomber and my year of service to my parents, my mother and father. for thru her unconditional affection and his constant absence, i know what true love is."
i felt them watching me. i hesitated before grabbing my bomber and unzipping it, awaiting more words, but nothing came out. when i put my bomber on, i felt wrong. wrong for mentioning my father at a place where such love and compassion were. wrong for even having him in my head at a time where we should focusing on what motivates us to do good things. and that's when i felt it...the coldness of hatred. and i was scared.
for those who may not know, i have a complicated relationship with my father. i don't know where i stand on a lot of issues with him, but i know that i cannot live with his burden...that's not fair. his burden of being a pisspoor father is not one that i must carry as his offspring, i know that, but to be real, he serves as the antithesis of what i hope to become. for 22 years (more or less) i've known little about the man that sired me except what my mother has told me. yea, she's biased, but then again so am i. but what shook me was the enmity i have for him...the amount of hate in my heart and my mind that...that keeps me focused and fueled. i feed off of my hatred for him and use that energy to teach love for all people? can it work that way? am i as hypocritical as i feel? i don't know...i don't know and i'm scared.
i never wanted to despise him...but i do. objectively, i should just talk to him, hear his side of the story, find out the truth from the source instead of relying on hearsay...but i don't want to. the funny thing about love and hate is that they are most often thought of as polar opposites; love = NOT hate and hate = NOT love. however, that's not the case. love and hate are both sources of motivation for our actions, only one gives you immediate gratification while the other one delays it; love is infectious while hate is poisonous...same idea, but our semantics skew our perceptions. i hate my father because it's easy, instant gratification; but i love him as well because he's a part of me and i damn sure do love myself (at times). so this internal conflict, this love/hate dance, truly represents what my service year is about. if i'm going to instill in these young heroes the importance of loving your neighbor as yourself, i'm going to have to force myself to do the same, especially because everyday i put that bomber on, i'm accepting his influence on me. it's not like me to back down from a challenge, but it's different when you ARE the challenge...it's scarier.
i dedicate my bomber and my year of service to my mother and my father....thru service, i hope that i can find peace and use it to kindle the spirit within me instead of a mix of love and hate.
i'm sorry for hating you and i'm sorry for loving you; i'm just scared.
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