On Fathers and Sons
Strange that fathers and sons are so bad at talking to one another. (Trite as it is, I can’t get thatCat Stevens song out of my head.) I had a late night with a friend last night talking about this sort of thing. Not in a whining kinda “He-never-told-me-he-loved-me” vein, just in a “We have trouble communicating” vein.
There is a great scene in City Slickers, when Daniel Stern’s character talks about why he loves baseball: it gave he and his father a language, a pathway for talking. When he and his father were having a tough time, and couldn’t be in a room together without screaming, they could always watch a baseball game.
Personally, I can’t stand baseball, but I can appreciate the sentiment.
