Understanding Mr. RK
Two Sundays ago, my barista at Starbucks handed me a venti in lieu of my usual request for a grande dark roast.
‘My Sunday gift, he said. What are your plans for today?’
‘Nothing special,’ I replied. ‘Just catching up on a bit of work.’
Andy shook his head almost disapprovingly. ‘You work a lot! You’ve got to start having some fun on the weekends.’
‘But work is fun….’ I started, and then stopped mid-sentence. Right then it occurred to me that I was modeling my father’s traits, the same ones that had irked me for so long. No hobbies, no pastime, working had become my idea of fun. Perhaps there’s some truth in that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
A good portion of my life has been dedicated to the cause of understanding my Papa, labelled affectionately by his colleagues as ‘Mr. RK’. In doing so, I’ve learned a thing or two about myself — ourselves that is, my brothers and I. The exploration has helped me in turn to better understand the quandary that is our children. Perhaps understanding Mr. RK will enable them to interpret the life paths of their own progeny in the years to come.
My mother tells me that before I was born he was wreaked with nervous anxiety. What if I turned out to be a third son? How would he divvy up his precious business among three boys? Luckily for…
