My Father, (a) True Character

In Fischer's article (and a bit in Lears), I see the struggles of my father's life.  Born in the 1930s, his youth in the 1940s ducked him out of WWII, and his education in engineering kept him safe from other twentieth-century conflicts.  My father is a distinctly talented man -- mathematical, musical, creative with his hands.  He and my mother started their married life together poor as molasses, with a child immediately on the way and the expectation that they would figure out how to carve out a life as an independent couple.  The opportunities presented to them by the economic boom of 1950s America allowed my mother to stay home and my father to become the ubiquitous "self-made man."

Despite raising a family, working for years in respectable positions for well-known companies, and eventually owning his own company, I see in my father the crisis Fischer mentions of modern America -- that of too many choices.  My father seems to feel that he needed to fulfill ALL of his talents in order to achieve his maximum potential .  This drove him, in addition to his reasonable success in the business/work world, to take up banjo, the guitar, singing, whittling (he would pick up a knife and piece of wood and carve a dog, a bird, a linked chain…), canoeing, baking, auto mechanics, aviation (he earned his pilot's license), downhill skiing (at this he has been and continues to be a master, well into his 70s), languages, and any number of artistic and athletic endeavors.  Perhaps some might interpret him as taking life by the horns and living it to the fullest.  Perhaps one might view him as a "Renaissance Man."  But despite his gregarious character and ready smile, I always felt he was driven not by a joy of life, but by a sense that he needed to fulfill all these skills, all these talents and qualities in his life -- or he would somehow fall short.  Jack of all trades, master of … well, enough of them (I don't want to sell my dad short … he is my hero after all), he somehow found himself swimming in the muck of modernity, lured into the vast potential of all the options available to him.  He seems to have bought into the idea that one could do anything, one could find the ultimate satisfaction and happiness through complete self-fulfillment of one's natural and genuine talents.  But when one is talented in so many ways, how can one follow them all?

Fischer raises the question about whether fewer options lead to greater happiness.  Counter-intuitively to a modern Western society that values freedom of choice, I would argue that fewer options might lead to a much greater sense of fulfillment when one achieves goals -- even if these are not in the area of someone's intrinsic strengths.  After all, our society never stopped appreciating the value of rising to the challenge, despite one's own personal weaknesses .  Don’t we all love the story of success when all odds are stacked against the hero?  Did such a story ever go out of style, through all the epochs, years, and contemporary trends Fischer highlights in his article?  And, when one thinks of the hero rising to the occasion despite personal weakness, isn't that the definition of character?  Perhaps Mary G. Chandler was onto something after all.

- Kelley Merriam Castro