Quondo Omni Flunkus Moritati

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
Will Shakespeare
As You Like it 2/7

The world may be a stage, but the grips keep changing the set and the writers keep changing the lines.

It would be easy to see the failure of my marriage from a single cause... it was her fault, it was my fault, it was the fire, it was Willy’s death... In truth, it was many things.

It serves no purpose for me to think about her failures, unless to make myself feel a little better. It would do no good to tell her where she failed. If she does not know, telling her will probably not serve to enlighten, only exacerbate.

I try to be honest. It isn’t an easy task. I play my roles... father, teacher, friend, Christ Follower... husband.

Too often the role becomes more important than it should. I want the role I play be perfect, and if I do not meet the full demands of the role, I pretend I did.

Ah... that is where it gets tricky. In pretending I am playing my role well, I can begin to believe my own minor fantasy.

When I married I knew it to be forever. I knew I would grow old with her... walk all my days with her beside me. I would care for her no matter how ill she might become, how poor we might become.

I knew it.

I believed my own fantasy.

That fantasy is special. I have many friends living that fantasy.

So... this change in my life is a benefit for others, isn’t it? My divorce is one more failed marriage among so many... and in so many broken vows, doesn’t that make the success of my friends all the more special?

I've written that life is about experience, events we absorb into our spirits, carrying them in tiny buckets to the stream of eternity.

In the ‘50s it seemed men were kings. I’m sure that wasn’t true... the depiction of fathers and husbands in Ozzie and Harriet, Leave it to Beaver, Father Knows Best, even Bonanza showed men as compassionate, wise, strong. I know men were never so good.

The Bible depicts men as highly important. Typical of a patriarchal society.

It explores the roles of men, admonishes them to care for their wives, to be faithful, to be fair.

In modern times much of the depiction of men, fathers, husbands, certainly young single men, consists of showing them as fools, crass self-centered buffoons. Gulls and gullible.

I like this amusing take on it from Possum Lodge:

Dear Lord...

We’re men...

And we’re sorry...

And we’ll change...

If we have to...

I guess.

Amen.

Sometime between the arrival of feminism and the strenuous societal embrace for an all encompassing political correctness, the role of men has become a confusing thing.

It occurs to me that in playing my roles upon the shifting stages of my life I have had trouble seeing myself behind the actor.

What if I disagree with Will Shakespeare and deny I have any roles to play whatsoever?

What if instead of doing my best to be a father, a Christ-follower, friend, teacher... husband... I refuse all the roles?

What if I am simply me?

Instead of roles... I have tasks. It does not matter how well I perform my role. What matters is being true to myself (and in doing so, true to who He made me be, would have me do).

About a year ago, once again walking in that large empty park I am so fond of, I felt those words ring through my heart... “Be true.”

That is all I need do.

All I need is to do my best at being who He made me to be.

Be true.