R E A L M E N
“Real men pick up after themselves”…I heard this as a tag-line on a Public Service Announcement on a cable channel the other evening and it made me think. The point of the spot was about litter and being man enough to pick it up, even if someone else had dropped it. I cannot stand when some slovenly pig uses the world as his personal trash can, dropping food wrappers, drink cups, bottles, cans or anything more properly disposed of in a trash receptacle. I have always made a practice of putting trash where it belonged, whether at a fast food restaurant or at a camp site, so at first I didn’t give much thought to the message.
Then, on reflection, a second interpretation occurred to me, a different take on the message than those involved in producing might have intended. Real men pick up after themselves, they do not walk away form their responsibilities; they do not create a mess and then shrug off the consequences, as if it were all someone else’s burden to clean up. Real men do not father children and then walk away as if they were merely another inconvenient article of trash to be tossed away. They do not leave one lover for another for the thrill of the chase, to prove their manhood or to demonstrate their charm. Real men understand the need for a father figure in their children’s lives, and for a partner to help with the day-to-day effort that goes into raising children. They also recognize their mate’s need for support, material, financial and emotional, as the years pass by
Real men do not take advantage of the weak or disadvantaged; they do not need to profit by another’s infirmity or inability to respond. A man is known by his acts, and those who act badly are not “real” men, by my definition, nor my father’s, nor by the definition of those whom I’ve known or read and respect. Starting with the earliest role models in the Bible and continuing through the panoply of history, including the examples in literature, “real” men have always been those who display courage, grace, humility, courtesy, humor, honesty, dependability, self-reliance, and steadfastness as their innate qualities.
While I cannot claim to display all these qualities 100% of the time, I have always believed these qualities are of inestimable value in determining my character and the character of others. Whether one considers Joseph ( of the many-colored coat) or Daniel in the Bible, the Count of Monte Cristo or Rhett Butler in fiction, John Wayne or Cary Grant in any of their movies, “real” men always were the ones to be counted on; though they may make mistakes, they came to the right conclusions, made the right decisions, did the right thing, even when it might cost them dearly. A “real” man’s motto could be “Might does not make right”, based on these examples and the many more to be found in all areas of our culture.
If it seems the world today does not value these qualities, based on what we hear in what passes for “music”, or see in the actions of anti-heroes in popular movies and TV programs, one only has to look at the popularity of movies such as “The Passion of the Christ”, or “What Women Want”, or even “Finding Nemo” to find proof that the opposite is in fact true. The values that demonstrate “real” manhood will never go out of date, or become passé, because these values reflect the yearning we all feel to be more than merely another cipher, just another face in the crowd; the longing for a better world and to be better people is what has driven society to improve itself from the earliest cave dwellings to the putative “shining cities” we all wish were a reality of today’s world. That the cities aren’t shining, but are dangerous havens for all manner of miscreants, can be blamed, in part, on those who are not “real” men, merely overgrown boys who haven’t found, or aren’t looking for, the courage, grace, humility, courtesy, humor, honesty, dependability, self-reliance, and steadfastness within themselves that would take them that one giant step into “real” manhood.
There are those types in small cities, towns and hamlets, too, but it is harder to be anonymous in those places; people are less willing to tolerate bad behavior and the continued residence of the malefactor when he lives nearby. It is easier to be a punk in a gang, or in the crowded city where everyone is desperately trying to maintain their own personal space in the face of constant intrusion by strangers. In the smaller towns, people are less desensitized and thus less likely to tolerate a welsher, a deviant, a boor, a wife-beater, a rapist, or the guy who thinks he shouldn’t have to support his kids. Some of these types may congregate at the local bar and congratulate each other on their success at avoiding responsibility, but the rest of the community is vividly aware of their actual status, not of “real” manhood, but that of “loser”, a condition not easily rectified. Since “misery loves company”, they will attract other losers, but they will not achieve the respect accorded “real” men. Some may even be clever enough to conceal the truth for some time, but in the same way “real” value will always shine through the grit and the grime, the lack of those qualities of a “real” man will eventually be revealed and leave them exposed as aging children of the male persuasion.

Looking for the One and Only

Like most people, I long to have someone close, someone I can always rely on, who relies on me as well, someone who is my best friend and biggest booster, someone to whom I can never fully explain how much I love her, because words aren't enough, it just takes time and examples....someone to whom a "life sentence" is a gift. Idealism/romanticism run rampant, in the imperfect world we live in, I know. I believe in these things in complete disregard for the harsher realities the world is forever trying to distract me with, in the firm conviction that she is there, somewhere, trying as hard to reach me as I am her.
She will recognize the true me, see the inner me for the knight-in-shining-armor/little-boy/cary-grant-in-the-rough I know myself to be. I will see her as the guardian-angel/little-girl/Sophia-Loren-meets-Bridgit-Bardot-as-the-ultimate-sex-kitten she wants me to see her as. We will both overlook the little flaws in our makeup and appreciate the wonder in our one-ness. We will make love with such passion it threatens to burst into flame, while feeding each other chocolate-covered cherries in between sips of scented wine, laying in a tangle of arms, legs and various body parts that blurs where one begins and the other ends. We will communicate in a blend of spoken words and mental telepathy, as one starts a sentence and the other finishes it, instantly knowing fully what we are trying to communicate, clearly and without misunderstanding.
Sadly, the reality will be somewhat different, wrinkles and fumbling attempts and missteps, each of us trying to put forward our best face; somehow the heart will see through the superficial reality, the awkward outside, to the real person inside. That's my version, my dream anyway, of love conquering all...that the inner voice we are all ruled by will ultimately steer us toward what we want. Sometimes, too often, we don't have the good sense to recognize what we are seeking when it arrives, being human and vain, being convinced by Hollywood and TV of what "real" romance is, being human and prone to error, stumbling toward ecstasy like kids blindfolded, trying to pin the tail on the donkey, sometimes hitting the target.
This is the true miracle of being human, of actually connecting with that kindred spirit, that one in a million, who is me/you in every way that counts and you/me in the others, a yin for the yang, a key for the lock that keeps our heart safe from intruders and violators. The very possibility keeps the heart young, keeps the lamp trimmed and burning, in the window, for those who would see, for the one who seeks, for the one.