THIS BUSINESS OF IDENTITY! IF IT DOESN'T START EARLY, CHANCES ARE IDENTITY WILL BE LIKE RIDING A ROLLER COASTER!

THIS BUSINESS OF IDENTITY!

IF IT DOESN’T START EARLY,

CHANCES ARE IDENTITY WILL BE LIKE RIDING A ROLLER COASTER!

James R. Fisher, Jr., Ph.D.

© August 15, 2014

As I was shopping for school clothes with their mother, my nine-year-old twin grandsons, were full of questions as we stopped at MacDonald’s.

Out of the blue, Keaton asked, “Why do baseball players have so many tattoos?” 

“Some even have tattoos on their faces,” chimed in Killian. 

“My favorite player on the Tampa Bay Rays, Evan Longoria, colors his hair in streaks, wears it in a Mohawk, or sometimes shaves his head completely,” observed Keaton.  "It's weird."

 

“Yes, he’s always changing his hair,“ agreed Killian.  "I think it's funny."

I told the twins I didn’t know why he did, or why most athletes do such things.  Athletes tended to be superstitious, and play the percentages.  Should they be hitting for average or hitting home runs, they often attribute their success to something they're doing differently.

Likewise, when they are in a slump, they work on the problem by watching film, listening to coaches, and teammates, or engage in some idiosyncratic behavior designed to lift them out of their funk. 

Not so long ago, the so-called “steroid era” found baseball players attempting to get an edge by using banned substances to bulk up, increase leverage and enhance performance.  They were willing to sacrifice health and a long career for instant potential.  Many athletes, only in their forties and fifties, have paid the ultimate price by dying early.

What their curiosity revealed was the consuming problem of identity.

“When you are eighty years old, and your grandsons are at about your age now, it will give you an opportunity to talk to them about life lessons formed at your age, but you had no idea how important those lessons were at the time.”

They looked at me curiously.  “I don’t know what you mean, grandpa,” said Keaton. 

“That is because I haven’t told you.”  

They were now paying more attention their dripping ice cream cones seemingly forgotten.  

“What I share with you now will likely reside in the back of your minds to be brought out one day when you are my age, talking to your grandsons as I am talking to you now.

“Your grandfather has had a very easy life because, unknown to him when he was your age, his behavior as a nine-year-old would prove significant.  It is what has made for a happy life.”

“You work all the time, grandpa,” Keaton declared, “I’m interested in fun, not work.”

“I suppose you could call doing research, writing books and articles, work, but for me it is fun, the most fun I have had in my life.”

“It is like school, papa.  I like school,” Killian added in support, “but Keaton doesn’t.”

Again, I felt we could wander off on a tangent, so I asked, “Can I tell you what it was like when I was nine-years-old, and going into fourth grade like you are?”

“Yes!” they said but with questioning wonder in their eyes.

“When I was your age, America was at war.  They called it World War Two as there had been a World War One a generation before your grandfather was born. 

“I grew up in what was called the Great Depression, meaning a lot of fathers were out of work, and families had to do with little.  We got used to getting along with little, and then the war came, and the little we had was often rationed, which meant that even if you had money there was only so much sugar and meat and other foods you could buy.

“There was no MacDonald’s, and even if there had been, few could afford to eat there.  It was a different time, just as this is a different time for you two.  

"What the future will be like when you are eighty-years-old is not known, but it will be different.  What will be the same will be the problem of identity.  That is a problem in every generation, and it is always the same problem.”

“Identity?” Keaton asked, “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means knowing who you are.”

“I know who I am.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know.  I am Keaton Fisher.  That is who I am.”

“No, Keaton.  That is your name.  That is not who you are.  You don’t know who you are until you are challenged with life lessons that tell you who you are.  

"Once they occur, and they will occur, if they haven’t already, situations that don’t at the time seem too important, but will in due course prove of great importance as you move into your teens, twenties, thirties, and all the way to your eighties.

“When I was a boy of nine going on ten, several things happened that I can look back on now and realize their significance.  I'd like to share a couple.

“When I was going into the fourth grade, my da took me by the hand and marched me downtown to the Martin Morris Sporting Goods & Clothing Store to buy school clothes for me, like I have been doing for you two today.

“The clerk in the store had been a school chum of my da’s and they talked and talked about the old days, and about classmates, while my da had me pick out pants and shirts, underwear and socks, sweaters and jackets, shoes and galoshes.  When I was done, my da told the clerk to wrap it up, and charge him.

“The clerk looked at my da hesitantly, and said he’d have to check my da’s credit.   He did, and came back and said he was sorry, that only cash would do.

“My da’s confident smile shriveled to a look of terror, an expression I had never seen before.  It was as if he collapsed to my size, and was no longer in charge.  I found myself saying, 'We don’t want this stuff,' taking my da’s hand and marching him out of the store.  

"Once outside, his hands shaking so bad he could hardly lite his cigarette.  He was crushed, but I was defiant.  I didn’t know why but I hated that clerk, hated that store, and hated everything that it represented.”

“You did that?” Killian asked in disbelief.

“Yes, Keaton, I did that, and it became a pattern.”

“Pattern?  Why do you use these big words grandpa?” asked Keaton, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean it wasn’t an isolated incident.  For example, when the Courthouse Tigers, the guys I played baseball with over at the courthouse grounds, all went to the movies, I guess everyone planned on going to the Capitol Theatre where the comedians Bud Abbot and Lou Costello were playing.  Next door the Rialto Theatre had a historical drama of the Northwest Passage.  I wanted to see it, and said I’d meet them all after the movies ended.  

"They called me a spoil sport, but I felt nothing of the sort.  I wasn’t going to a movie I didn't want to see because everyone else was, or doing so because they insisted I do."

“I would have preferred the funny show,” said Keaton.  “I'd probably like the other movie,” said Killian, “but I'd want to be with everyone else.  Would that be wrong?”

“No, it wouldn’t, Killian.  At that early age, it wasn’t a problem for me to go my own way.  

“My reason for sharing this with you is that others, people you like, people who may fail to make wise choices, may persuade you to do what they plan on doing, drinking, smoking, doing drugs, cheating in school, misusing other people’s things, all sorts of behaviors, only because they don’t want to do these things alone.

"By having you do them with them they justify in their minds that they are all right to do them, when they clearly are not.  People don't like to do unwise things alone.”

“Daddy talks about making wise choices.  Is that what you mean?” asked Keaton.

“It goes beyond wise or right choices.  I’m talking about identity.  You mention Evan Longoria and his peculiar behavior.  Kids see what he does and they copy that behavior because he is a famous baseball player, not realizing they are aping him at the expense of discovering their own identity.”

“Daddy says you’re different, grandpa,” stated Keaton, “Is that what he means?”

“You’d have to ask him.  My reason for telling you this goes back to what I said in the beginning.  Your grandfather has had a very easy life and a happy one because of those lessons learned when he was your age.

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