Thought Picnic: Meeting Your Estranged Children Where They Are

Adapting to a Changing World

I am constantly told that I need to make allowances for the older generation because they are set in their ways. This might be true, but the world is always changing around us, and thriving in any community requires steady, sometimes sudden, adaptations if we are to relate to people, events, ideas, and circumstances.

Whilst reading an article on LinkedIn titled “Meeting Your Resistant Children Where They Are”, I immediately realised that it seemed to address only one part of the wider issue of relationships. The article focused more on divorced parents and their apparently adolescent children, and I appreciate that the writer's area of expertise is divorce and parenting.

If I were to extrapolate, however, the issue extends well beyond divorce, which is merely one of the elements contributing to the breakdown of relationships, just as resistance is only one facet of parent-child estrangement.

The Generational Cycle

It is interesting to observe how we all move through the generational phases of life, beginning as children with parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents, and then transitioning through these phases as those who came before us begin to drop off, in that natural cycle of life.

How we relate to those before us sometimes follows an established code of community, reverence, and respect. What rarely finds adequate scrutiny is the need to adapt for those who come after us.

For instance, when does a parent begin to see their child as an adult, one to be treated with some acknowledgement and, I dare say, respect for their autonomy, independence, initiative, and decision-making?

A Personal Reflection

Then again, this topic is probably too broad to be addressed in a blog, or from an amateur's background, even with the lived experience that might cloud one's judgement. My parents were never divorced; rather, with the palpable tension, the middle-aged theatrics, and the passage of time, they grew apart.

It might have been better had they gone their separate ways a long time ago, rather than being hemmed in by middle-class values until their cohabitation became untenable. Each kept their own record of what the other might or might not have done, and we, the children, were corralled into narratives that expected us to take sides; in the main, we tended to remain neutral.

However, to bring this conversation back on course, there is where my parents expect me to be, where they see me, and where I actually am. These are entirely different places. Whether I am a child, an adult, pliant, or recalcitrant, I can only wonder whether I am all of these at the same time. The fact that I have never been a parent might inform other perspectives.

Naming the Thing

Still, there is a name for the thing I am circling, and I only came upon it recently: relational maturity. It is not the same as being agreeable, nor the same as being patient, though it borrows freely from both. It is, rather, the capacity to meet another person where they actually stand, without insisting they first travel to where we happen to be waiting for them. I had felt its absence for a lifetime without ever knowing what to call it.

The question that follows is not a comfortable one: who is obliged to do the adjusting? Tradition has a ready answer, that the younger defers to the older and the child to the parent, and like most tidy arrangements, it survives chiefly because it serves the people who designed it.

Relational maturity refuses this one-way traffic. It accepts that adjustment must flow in both directions, that the parent who demands reverence might first ask whether they have offered acknowledgement. I say this as a sexagenarian, mind you, and not as a young firebrand with a grievance, for I am now of the very generation that is customarily granted the latitude I am here declining to claim.

There is a temptation to mistake all this for weakness, as though meeting people where they are were merely a polite word for capitulation. It is nothing of the sort. The mature party is not the one who folds; it is the one who can hold their own position firmly whilst still granting the other their dignity and their difference. Anyone can be tolerant of those who already agree with them; the test arrives with the person who does not.

And yet relational maturity is not infinite. There comes a point where meeting someone where they are reveals only that they have no intention of moving, and no interest in your moving either. At that juncture, the mature response is not to keep travelling toward a meeting that will never take place, but to disengage calmly and without rancour, which is itself a form of maturity.

Snipping the Cord

Certain interactions have rubbed me up the wrong way, and my reaction has usually been to disengage. People, and this goes beyond parents to siblings, relations, friends, and others you encounter throughout life, seem to forget that, regardless of what they assume ties you together, you can snip the cord and walk away, unbound, unfettered, and unconcerned.

The way you address and talk to people, their slight and unfortunate expressions of indifference, and the use of words that fail to give credence to the multifaceted nature of a person, or that fail to acknowledge the changes we see in ourselves and in others, can alter things so radically as to put them beyond redemption.

Tradition Versus Individuality

Tradition might dictate one thing, but personalities are individual and unique; they may not conform to any prescribed norms and may fall entirely outside our common frames of reference.

The question, then, becomes whether you are ready to shift your position, find common ground, seek resolution, and even accept that you were wrong, despite your ways being set in reinforced concrete.

The Cost of Indifference

I remember conversations and interactions that informed my decision to withdraw fellowship from certain people. You may not realise you have done something wrong, albeit inadvertently, but whoever is doing the kicking is rarely the one doing the hurting.

There might be another way to work through this, yet I am only human, and there is a dignity in that which demands the courtesy of others, regardless of the ties.

Restrict this ever-constant need to adapt our relationships, the need that keeps conversation thriving and engaged, all in the name of conserving what we think we hold dear, and the consequences will be exactly where we find ourselves, whether we are involved or not.

Honour and Provocation

Parents tend to think of estranged children as personifications of the Prodigal Son. Yet we, the children, eventually begin to see our parents with all their flaws, and for all the care and responsibility that went into their parenting, they were never in the class of God; they were simply human. Where the holy book says, “honour your father and mother”, it also says, “do not provoke your children unto wrath”.

Someone really ought to write an academic study on “Meeting Your Estranged Children Where They Are”.

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Essential Snobbery 101: The King's Button

The King's Button

Edward VII was reputed to be a man who loved the pleasures of life, and his girth bore witness to this. At the table, he would leave the bottom button of his waistcoat undone, a practical habit that lent itself to ease and spared the garment the wear of exertion or extension on account of eating.

Observers at the table, nobles and servants alike, must have noticed this, and so it became the style. The party prince who became king after Victoria's long reign did it, and so should his subjects; consequently, this was deemed the way to dress. In time, the habit travelled beyond the waistcoat to the jacket and the suit, where it endures to this day.

How Custom Passes

The role of observers, those who watch a habit harden into a custom, is important to understanding how matters of style and taste are passed on. The observation must occur in close proximity and with a semblance of regularity, if one is to distinguish the trendy and the customary from a mere slip. The same applies to conduct, communication, and comportment, along with the courtesies that attend them.

A Quiet Decline

Recently, as I have gone about my own pursuits, it has come to my notice that elements of style and taste are not as commonplace as one would hope. Many gentlemen, and I use the word liberally, from the young to the much older, wear their jackets with every button done up.

There are times when I have had the urge to point this out, but such a thing is only acceptable with people you know, not with strangers. It suggests that the knowledge simply is not there. Style, however, is not optional; it is descriptive on sight, speaking before a single word is uttered.

There Is No Finishing School

I have been fortunate to keep the company of those who know these particular things, and to learn from them: leaving the lowest button undone, undoing all the buttons when sitting down, how to knot a tie, how to match a pocket square, and so on.

There is no class or finishing school for this. You learn it through association, something you have seen your father, uncle, brother, friend, mentor, or teacher do, where on occasion they have extended a hand to make that slight adjustment which separates you from a ragamuffin.

The Quiet Inheritance

There is a name for what I am describing, though I had circled it for years before I learnt it: cultural capital. It is the quiet inheritance of knowing, the accumulated sense of how things are done, passed not through lectures but through living alongside those who already possess it.

Unlike money, it cannot be handed over in a single gesture; it must be absorbed slowly, through observation and the occasional corrective hand on the shoulder.

What troubles me in my own observation is that this transfer appears to be faltering. The fathers, uncles, and mentors who once made that slight adjustment seem fewer now, or perhaps less inclined, and so a generation arrives at adulthood with the wardrobe but not the wisdom, the garment but not the grammar of wearing it.

Style as a Map

It is strange how a mere observation can tell of the road you have travelled, and how, in certain settings, it becomes the key to gaining access or being barred.

I want to be clear that this is not a plea for gatekeeping; I take no pleasure in barriers, and I would sooner extend the hand than withhold it. Yet I would be dishonest to pretend that appearances do not, quietly and often unfairly, dictate access.

A door opens or remains shut, an introduction is offered or withheld, a judgement is formed and acted upon, all before a word has been exchanged.

The cruelty of it is that those most affected are frequently the least aware it is happening, mistaking the closed door for bad luck rather than a code they were never taught to read. To name this is not to endorse it. It is simply to acknowledge that the rules exist, that they operate in silence, and that ignorance of them is rarely the fault of the person left standing outside.

No Personal Fault

This is not to be judgemental, even towards the utterly pretentious; eventually, that discomfort with one's appearance is betrayed by embarrassment. It is upward mobility expressed in acquisitive adornment, yet bereft of the quiet sophistication of the how and the why.

Whether this calls for a school of style, I cannot tell. It is not as though these people considered consulting the largest repository of knowledge, the Internet at their fingertips, to ask questions of style and taste as readily as they might ask for a recipe.

Invariably, as my gaze falls upon these occurrences, I am reminded that not knowing, or not caring, is not so much a personal fault. You were simply not privileged to keep the company of that kind of positive influence.

The Shops, and Where I Stand

Let us not forget the shops. I will not step into a suit shop where a mannequin has been improperly attired, as it suggests the staff have paid no attention to detail.

In one such shop, I asked to be fitted, but I was dismissed to the fitting room as though I were trying on a casual shirt or a T-shirt. I did not waste another minute there.

I do not intend to become a consultant on style. Rather, I will stick to the comfort of the familiar.

An Edwardian Inheritance

It is fitting, then, to return to the man who began all this. The Edwardian period was one of transition in dress as much as in everything else. For both men and women, this period balanced structured luxury with newfound freedom of movement. The rigid formality of the Victorian age was loosening, and comfort was beginning, quietly, to earn its place alongside propriety.

Edward VII's most enduring legacy was the tradition of leaving the bottom button of a waistcoat undone, a habit that has since transferred to jackets and suits alike. We observe it now without a thought for its origin, which is rather the point.

A king's button was only ever a habit that others chose to read, to copy, and to pass on. The grammar of how we dress is nothing more than a long chain of such small observations, handed down from one watchful eye to the next, until the day the chain is broken, and someone arrives, jacket fully buttoned, with no one left to make that slight adjustment. Just look away.

Blog - Essential Snobbery 101: The rules on suit buttons (April 2014)

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New Year, Ancient Praise

Àwá yìn ọ́, Ọlọ́run (Te Deum Laudamus)

Crossover Services

There is an Anglican tradition in Nigeria that I miss: the celebration of the advent of the New Year, where we go to church to worship God, praising and thanking Him for the past year and ushering in the New Year in prayer and the worship of the Almighty God.

Nowadays, this is called a crossover service, sometimes with a kind of pompous religiosity that suggests we have decided to spend time in church rather than in drunken revelry at a bar. Though where I have not been able to attend church, I would rather stay at home and celebrate with my partner or with friends whilst watching the world ring in the New Year.

A Multicultural Feast

However, recently, I have found that some multinational evangelical or Pentecostal churches do celebrate this crossover phenomenon. I did find one nearby that had a feast of multicultural cuisine before we settled down to a sermon, then praise and worship. I am quite comfortable in those settings.

For this New Year's celebration, I decided to attend the !Audacious Church ticketed event, for which one has to move promptly before the tickets are sold out. It was going to be a standing-only event, but seats were provided for those who needed that kind of respite.

!Audacious has a very youthful attendance; I could easily be in the cohort of the elderly with grandchildren rather than just being a parent, but I do love the energy in small amounts.

A Foretaste of Heaven

As we sang praises, many with the word 'Holy', I was caught up in the awesomeness of how this could be playing in heaven: angels, archangels, and all creation worshipping the Father, the Lord God Almighty; the Lamb upon the throne, Jesus Christ; and the Holy Spirit.

I imagined the language in heaven would probably not be English but one which, to our hearing, would fill us with indescribable wonder and awe beyond anything a human mind could ever fathom. Just for that alone, I'll rather go to heaven than anywhere else.

Even in a heavenly crowd of a thousand generations, lost somewhere in the mix of the glory that is beyond the realm of comprehension, it can only be the best place to be. I am thankful for the foretaste we have been given on earth.

Te Deum Laudamus

Then, back to the Anglican traditions I referred to earlier, modernity has changed many of the things we used to do, like chanting or singing the canticles. As the clock strikes midnight at church, we sing the Te Deum Laudamus (We praise thee, O God) in Yoruba.

Maybe it is my engineering brain or something, but the Yoruba language is a tonal language with pitches of acute, grave, and mid tones, mostly represented on the vowels.

I cannot elucidate on the mechanics of representation to the extent of a linguist, but I did learn and master the application of diacritical marks (accents, tone marks, and under dots). As far as I am concerned, they are critical to the understanding and comprehension of Yoruba when written and read.

AI and Linguistic Precision

However, all the versions I found online did not have this essential distinction, so in the age of AI, I asked three different AI bots (Google's Gemini-3-Pro, then Anthropic's Claude-Opus-4.1) to attempt to annotate the text. The last one (OpenAI's GPT-5.2) even engaged me fully in Yoruba, and that was impressive.

The result was good enough, but I had to review the full text against the English version to ensure everything was correct to the best of my knowledge of Yoruba. Then, usually, accents are not put on the consonant N, but the reality is that in speech, for certain words, when N is followed by another consonant, it is prudent to get the right tone.

Finally, the last line of the Yoruba version in the prayer section of the canticles can take many translations and interpretations, but it is the most effective in Yoruba: "Láí, má jẹ́ kí n dààmú." To me, it reads, in context, as: O Lord, I trust in You; let me never be bothered by anything, because You are with me.

I wish you all a Happy New Year!

Te Deum Laudamus
Yoruba	English
Iyín Mẹ́talọ̀kan	Praise to the Trinity
Àwá yìn ọ́, Ọlọ́run, Àwá ń jẹ́wọ́ Rẹ pé ìwọ ni Oluwa, Gbogbo aiyé fi orí balẹ̀ fún ọ, Bàbá aiyé títí láí. Ìwọ ni ẹni tí gbogbo àwọn Angẹ́lì, ń kí gbé pè, Ọ̀run àti gbogbo agbára, tí ń bẹ nínú wọn. Ìwọ ni ẹni tí àwọn Kérúbù àti àwọn Séráfù, Kígbe pé ní gbà gbogbo pé: Mímọ́ Mímọ́ Mímọ́, Olúwa Ọlọ́run àwọn ọmọ ogun, Ọ̀run òun ayé, Kún fún ògo ńlá tí ò gọ Rẹ. Ẹgbẹ́ àwọn Apóstélì, Tí ó lógo yìn ọ́, Ọgbà àwọn Wòlíì, Tí ó dára, yìn ọ́, Ogun àwọn Mátírì, tí ó dára yìn Ọ́., Ìjọ Mímọ́ ènìyàn Ọlọ́run Ní gbogbo ayé ńjẹ́wọ́ Rẹ: Baba ẹni ọlá ńlá, tí kò ní pẹ̀kun; Àti Ọmọ Rẹ nìkan ṣoṣo, Olólá, Olótìítọ́. Ẹ̀mí Mímọ́ pẹ̀lú, Olùtùnú ni.	We praise thee, O God: We acknowledge Thee to be the Lord. All the earth doth worship Thee, the Father everlasting. To Thee all Angels cry aloud: the Heavens and all the powers therein. To Thee Cherubim and Seraphim continually do cry, Holy, Holy, Holy: Lord God of Sabaoth; Heaven and earth are full of the Majesty of Thy Glory. The glorious company of the Apostles praise Thee. The godly fellowship of the Prophets praise Thee. The noble army of Martyrs praise Thee. The holy Church throughout all the world doth acknowledge Thee; The Father of an infinite Majesty; Thine honourable, true, and only Son; Also the Holy Ghost: the Comforter.
Iyín Kírístì	Praise of Christ
Kírístì, Ìwọ ni Ọba Ògo, Ìwọ ni Ọmọ láílái ti Baba. Nígbà tí Ìwọ tẹ́wọ́gbà fún ara Rẹ láti gba ènìyàn là, O kò kórìíra inú Wúndíá. Nígbà tí O ṣẹ́gun oró ikú tán, O ṣí ìjọba ọ̀run sílẹ̀ fún gbogbo Àwọn onígbàgbọ́. O jókòó ní ọwọ́ ọ̀tún Ọlọ́run, Nínú ògo ti Baba. Àwa gbàgbọ́ pé O ńbọ̀ wá Láti ṣe Onídàájọ́ wa. Nítorí náà ni àwa ṣe ńgbàdúrà, Sí ọ̀dọ̀ Rẹ: Ran àwọn ọmọ ọ̀dọ̀ Rẹ lọ́wọ́, Tí Ìwọ ti fi ẹ̀jẹ̀ Rẹ, iyebíye rà padà. Ṣe wọ́n kí a lè kà wọ́n kún àwọn ènìyàn Mímọ́ Rẹ Nínú ògo tí kò ní pẹ̀kun.	Thou art the King of Glory, O Christ. Thou art the everlasting Son of the Father. When Thou tookest upon Thee to deliver man: Thou didst not abhor the Virgin's womb. When Thou hadst overcome the sharpness of death, Thou didst open the Kingdom of Heaven to all believers. Thou sittest at the right hand of God in the glory of the Father. We believe that Thou shalt come to be our Judge. We therefore pray Thee, help Thy servants whom Thou hast redeemed with Thy precious blood. Make them to be numbered with Thy Saints in glory everlasting.
Àwọn àdúrà	Prayers
Olúwa, gba àwọn ènìyàn Rẹ là, Kí Ìwọ kí ó sì fi ìbùkún fún àwọn ènìyàn ìní Rẹ. Jọba wọn, Kí O sì máa gbé wọn lékè láíláí. Àwa ńgbé Ọ ga, ní ojojúmọ́; Àwa sì ńfi orí balẹ̀ ní, Orúkọ Rẹ Títí ayé tí kò ní pẹ̀kun. Fìyèsíni, Olúwa, Láti pa wá mọ́ lónìí ní àìlẹ́ṣẹ̀. Olúwa, ṣàánú fún wa, ṣàánú fún wa. Olúwa, jẹ́ kí àánú Rẹ kí ó máa bà lé wa,  Gẹ́gẹ́ bí àwa ti ńgbẹ́kẹ̀ wa lé Ọ. Olúwa, Ìwọ ni mo gbẹ́kẹ̀lé, Láí, má jẹ́ kí n dààmú.	O Lord, save Thy people: And bless Thine heritage. Govern them and lift them up for ever. Day by day we magnify Thee; And we worship Thy Name, ever world without end. Vouchsafe, O Lord, to keep us this day without sin. O Lord, have mercy upon us. O Lord, let Thy mercy lighten upon us: as our trust is in Thee. O Lord, in Thee have I trusted: Let me never be confounded.

References

Te Deum Laudamus - Awa Yin O, Olorun | Yoruba Chant with Lyrics – Source text

Andrews University: English Text of the Te Deum

Wikipedia: Te Deum

Church of England: Te Deum Laudamus – Modern

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The identity complex of community collateral

At cultural crossroads

Much as I try to convince myself that I fully integrated with the norms and mores of the major cultural influences in my upbringing, I am ever so rudely brought to the realisation that I am very much distant and sometimes barely belong and understand certain situations.

What is becoming quite evident is the Western influences are both dominant and defining, the Nigerian and Yoruba influences whilst giving me the benefit of experience and appreciation, my worldview only inculcates snippets rather than full concepts.

Decades ago, when my father said, “You have always thought like a Westerner.” Whilst not taking offence, I felt my quest to adapt and integrate with the culture and norms of my parents’ roots was being discounted. My years of being toughened in secondary boarding school in southwestern Nigeria were more a reinforcement of my difference than sameness.

Accented differences accentuated

Some afterwards, my brother would say, in jest and yet with more than a scintilla of truth that, “You are not one of us.” I guess even where I have challenged that presumption, I might well be in denial. My mongrel accent of various influences leaves me speaking in Nigeria as if I have an English accent and, in the UK, I have West Midlands and Estuary pretensions and pronunciation with enunciation deliberate but not received. I don’t desire a posh accent.

It is my accent that immediately set me apart in the 19 years I lived in Nigeria, and from the time we landed in Nigeria, there were people who saw me as a foreigner of sorts to the day I left. There may be instances where I try to so hard and relent when I understand that I am indeed different and I should embrace that fact.

An individual at divides

Today, I was given another perspective to contextualise my reaction to a conversation where I thought the discussion had deviated from the issue to the collateral. To a person steeped in Western individuality, the issue revolves around the individual and that is where the focus should be. At least, that is where I would naturally gravitate.

My sister however suggested another perspective, in the communitarian construct of African identity, the individual exists in a community and the issue affecting the individual has impactful collateral that the community is burdened with for which the community sees incumbent to ingratiate, intrude, and intervene to address and ameliorate for themselves, the individual and the instigating issue.

The enlightenment is I probably have been too individualistic in the things that pertain to me, my engagement in the broader community has been on my own terms alone with little consideration of who is in that community or how what happens to me affects that community. To that community, I can be radical, a maverick and a possible outcast. Unfortunately, for the said community, just by my Western outlook I have sworn no allegiance even if it is implicitly demanded of me.

A renewed acceptance

It is unlikely that my perspective will change, but I need to give the periphery some thought. Already, I find myself reviewing some of my viewpoints before publication because of these allegiances, weak as they might seem. In the quest for a better understanding of my sense of identity, rather than battle with the differences and drown in the confluence of the conflicting influences, I will just accept I am an Englishman in the main, with an inept understanding of traditions and culture of my forebears.

I am a study of the Third Culture Kid that will be found in disagreement with an ancestral community and in agreement with that in which I was born, for the good and for life. There are many like me who still face these issues, I am just surprised that at close to 60, the question of identity is still a work in progress.

Thought Picnic: No fighting with my parents

My parents are stars

There is one amazing gift of life that I probably do not appreciate as much as I should, the fact that I do still have my parents well into my golden jubilee years, they are both active and contributing to their communities, probably less agile by reason of age, but so totally with their faculties to participate in many things and dispense wisdom at no urging, besides the stories they can tell about life.

Even so, I am enamoured by their sense of adventure and willingness to try new things, like for instance, my mother went on a pilgrimage to the holy lands late last year, the trip sponsored by a class from the school where she was the pioneer principal.

Over Easter, my father launched a book he authored about the history of our hometown, Ijesha-Ijebu in Ogun State, not to be confused with Ijebu-Ijesha in Osun State. The well-attended event offered the opportunity for us to showcase the achievements of our patriarch.

Duly turning up

There is a likelihood that all of us would have attended if we were in the country because the occasion is more about him than us, it is one of those settings where we get to celebrate him amongst peers, in the community, and to the whole world.

I was left a bit disappointed by the fact that a certain one did not avail themselves of the opportunity to grace the occasion out of umbrage which would most definitely presage outrage. Their absence was noted and journaled, consequences would ensue but that is not for me to indicate.

However, I do remember that 40 years ago, on the birth of my baby sister, now of blessed memory, I absented myself from her naming ceremony having caused grievance to my parents the week before. It felt convenient for me, but my absence did not go unnoticed, everyone who could remember me from that precocious kid asked after me and my parents did not have the easiest excuse to render for someone who was also in the same city, hardly an hour away.

Wrath comes swiftly

I had stored up wrath for myself that when I next visited home, I faced severe and retributive justice from not just embarrassing my parents, but from not appreciating that there are things I am dutybound to perform as part of the family even if roles are not clearly defined, you step up and engage, you make yourself present and contribute, especially if you are at that time not of independent means.

There are expectations whether you choose to fulfil them or not, but what you cannot afford is to have your absence reckoned as a slight and disrespect to the family to which you belong. Strangely, for all the liberal views we might have, we are quite conservative on the matters of the composition of our family and show up mostly by being compelled even if the courtesy of politely asking in the remit of the patriarch. The many times, I have tried to make the point that he cannot order people around like he used to.

I suppose what stunned me in my father’s reaction to my not attending my sister’s naming ceremony was he headbutted me, I stumbled and fell backwards, literally dazed. Of all the means of discipline at his disposal, that was the strangest one and totally unforgettable.

Example for learning

Now, I do not expect an 82-year-old to go around headbutting his younger sons, much as I sometimes envy the musculature of his age and bearing, I fear for what might ensue for which I have not yet found the construct of admonition and advice to address the matter to the concerned. The attitude is not out of character, rather, it has been overlooked and essentially not imputed even as narratives and experiences would have dictated, because we are of better breeding than the pettiness things like this would entail.

Our parents provide examples, but an example is not a call to imitation, rather the study of example should allow us to follow the good and discard the bad, learn lessons, determine not to repeat their mistakes and end the vicious cycle of confrontation, conflict, and irritation.

We need to find accommodations of acceptance, agreement, and engagement for there is little we can demand of them than guidance and prayers, as essential responsibilities begin to devolve to those of us in our prime. We now have to take up the mantel, make the appearances for the family, find the means to attend to needs, wants, and provision, keep the family arrangements in good order and we do this with a sense of duty and humanity that it requires.

Play for the good

When I speak to either my father or my mother, I am regaled with prayers and blessings, their happy voices warming my heart and for all the trouble I was through my teenage years into early adulthood, I may not have made all the amends, but I am grateful that they appreciate me, just as they appreciate my other siblings.

At this juncture in their lives, it is just totally unnecessary to find oneself at the wrong end of their tongues. Indeed, we do disagree and respectfully so, but not to the extent of disagreeableness, they are in the twilight of their years and whatever would bring them comfort and joy stays paramount on our minds. We unite to fight against, not divide to fight amongst, a distinction that might be lost on the psyche of those poorly schooled on non-nuclear family constructs.

Choose good example

For all the conflict that has existed between my parents in their marriage and there is much to review, I have resolved never to take sides, be influenced, or persuaded by either party, to each I have a working and productive relationship and it has served me better than to allow either conscribe me into their battles.

They have their faults and that is for them to resolve not for me to accentuate and project for either, it is a principle of relationships some fail to learn and suffer much not understanding and differentiating between learning from example and repeating bad example.

A Merry Christmas noted

By fate we were late

We entered Christmas slightly in a demur and sober mood, crashing out the night before in the living room, I on the so-called sofa-bad hewn out of rock that each shift was a creak in body ache allegro, you would find more comfort in wincing. He on the rug that sheds its thread at peak alopecia, and I doubt it was any more comfortable, but when I woke up in the witching hour, I got both of us to the bedroom and the comfort of the bed.

The Christmas service had to be registered for as the church was only going to admit 250 worshippers due to Coronavirus precautions. It was to start at 10:00 AM and for all our early wakefulness and preparations, we arrived as they were finishing the processional hymn and found seats to the front left nave with a good view of the altar and the celebrants.

In the humanity of our frailties

The president was Reverend Michael Lapsley, whose storied life of priesthood and social justice activism included having both his hands blown off by a letter bomb sent to him by the Apartheid regime. The atmosphere was lively and solemn, the choir in full angelic voice especially for the Latin recitals.

The Sung Eucharist is quite conservative and traditional that when censer was filled, I thought of it as God’s shisha, for it smoked up like one was observing a full burnt offering, a sweet savour to the Lord as the Bible has usefully described that Old Testament sacrament. I could do without finding fault in things as the pamphlet had mean for meek in one of the carols and the Gospel was read from John when it indicated Luke, the Latin for heavens is Caeli, but it had Coeli, amongst other things.

At the end of the service, we posed for some pictures before stepping out to greet the ministers, going to breakfast, crowd watching at V&A Waterfront before returning home for Christmas dinner. It has been a wonderful and beautiful day; I hope you all had a beautiful merry Christmas.

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Thought Picnic: Challenging disabling traditions

Cutting loose

Tradition is a disabler, that makes deference remove the need for reference, and projects the need for respect over the necessity for retrospect.

The truth is lost in the sophistry of saving face such that the irritable elements of our culture entrenches entitlement without demanding responsibility.

Yet, there is no school of tradition or a college of culture, we are supposed to glean all the intricacies of norms, mores and comportment by osmosis, from observation or just the fact that we have forebears that held beliefs that we never were educated to imbibe, but must conform to.

Taboos exist that have no basis in fact, science or truth, apart from a list of don’ts, musts and commands. No matter how well-educated we are, we are never to challenge or question these age-old mysteries or we risk the wrath of some vague, superstitious and terrible outcome, the dread of which keeps us in line.

Excusing things

Caught between these conflicting demands of subservience and independence, we are rarely near where we can emancipate ourselves from the mental slavery and bondage of practising the worst of these subcultures over the beneficial parts.

From where the elder caught lying is given the bye and excuse that they can never lie to where certain reprehensible deeds are never discussed where the discussion in these times would definitely lead to a better resolution of issues.

We are constantly emotionally blackmailed by those who repeatedly find ways to enfeeble bold expression with required gratitude for what essentially is both their duty and responsibility. An aversion to these debilitating subcultures sets you up for being an outcast.

Self-preservation is key

The question then becomes; would we always subsume education and enlightenment to keep the cultural peace and barely get along under the false pretence that all is well?

It is without any doubt that many of these unresolved conflicts in relationships that tax the soul to the point of occasioning mental illness are the sources of stress, hypertension and worse.

Disengagement is a self-preservation ploy, little understood, but critical to personal wellbeing. The way we rationalise our actions and reactions are selfish modes of keeping ahead of the maelstrom of encumbering and damaging societal requirements.

Thought Picnic: The notion of men as they are rather than as they ought to be

You read me right

I guess after reading a few of my blogs, there will be no doubt in the mind of the reader that I have libertarian and liberal views about many things concerning our humanity.

Yet, I am hardly tolerant of abuses of religion, the law, in the family, of customs, traditions or somewhat long-held belief systems that either curtail or proscribe the opportunities for freedom, liberation and expression.

Vigilant nosey parkers

In 1894, at the tail-end of Queen Victoria’s long reign when supposedly Victorian values had become quite entrenched and were being exported to its colonial outposts, there was an upheaval taking place in England.

The licence for the Empire Theatre of the Varieties had come up for renewal, this was vehemently challenged under the leadership of Laura Ormiston Chant of the National Vigilance Committee with the charge that the theatre exhibited indecency on stage and tolerated prostitution in its tiers.

Whilst the new licence placed wide restrictions on the activities of the theatre, there was a wider debate in society as to whether entertainment and enjoyment should be so strictly regulated at the behest of a morality and purity brigade. Laura Ormiston Chant did not particularly have an auspicious backstory besides having run away from a home with parents that were strict disciplinarians and who run a girls’ institution.

The fallout

Meanwhile, the first anti-homosexuality laws were passed in 1885 in the Labouchere Amendment making gross indecency a criminal offence in the United Kingdom and many of those empire era laws that have now been expunged from our law books are being reaffirmed by many of the colonies that have since been independent from the British Empire since the 1960s under that guise that such is not according to our customs, traditions or beliefs.

One notable consequence of these Victoria purity drives was what ensnared Oscar Wilde when he file a libel action, lost it, which resulted in a new trial, a conviction and disgrace in 1895.

Men as they are

However, within the furore of the debate about morality laws, a young Winston Churchill wrote to the Westminster Gazette in 1894 and stated the following:

“State intervention in the form of statute will never eradicate evil.
It may make it more dangerous for the evildoer.
But such a policy, while not decreasing immorality, only increases its ill effects.
The state should protect [its citizens] from harm,
and must govern men as they are and not as they ought to be.”

This is where the issue of morality laws places all sorts of unacceptable constraints on the freedom of expression and articulation allowing for undue and unwarranted prosecution of people for harmless activities that have been rescheduled as crimes.

Live and let live

We have too many instances of the force and imposition of various unyielding and ultra-conservative belief systems with extreme tendencies given the weight of the law to force people to be a certain way rather than be themselves and by that be better participants in their communities and societies to the good and better of all.

There is no doubt in my mind that when we not only govern but begin to see, to accept and to celebrate “men as they are and not as they ought to be” having already put in place the systems to ensure none of the vulnerable amongst us comes to harm by reason of our liberties, being fully protected in their rights and privileges and full members of the society they are in, the world will no doubt be a better place.

Opinion: Marriage as a commitment between consenting adults

Changing views

My views about marriage have broadened and liberalised over decades to the point where I am quite easy with the idea that any two consenting adults in love can decide to formalise their relationship with a marriage ceremony.

It is strange that though I have transitioned from High Church Anglican through almost fundamentalist Pentecostal to rather a relapsed and nominally assenting Christian, there were times when I thought divorce was unthinkable or even unforgivable, but with time by understanding human nature more, I have realised no marriage is made in heaven, the partners in a marriage have to work hard at it.

Then again, I will also challenge the young-earth creationist view that appears to put marriage firmly in the docket of a Judeo-Christian or Abrahamic construct. Maybe up half the world follows that belief system, but there are considerably large Asian religious groups, agnostics, atheists, apostates and non-religionists that do not subscribe to the Adam and Eve Genesis mythology of the human race, yet they all seem have a tradition of marriage with all its ceremonies. Religions of the world – Wikipedia.

Marriage is more civil than religious

Love carries a deeper relational context between people, be it between man and woman, man and man or woman and woman, but more broadly, marriage, whilst is still appears to cling to religious apron strings in many societies has long been extricated from the grip and hold of religion.

It is mostly a civil and legal contract of commitment with accoutrements that accrue to it, giving legal standing to the relationship, recognition of next of kin and a partnership that gives a greater say to the spouse over the family in important matters of life and death.

The religious part of marriage has almost become a kind of nostalgia, a sop to the innate spirituality of the participants who generally might not be regular attendees of the religious establishment that grants a blessing to the union.

A matter of equality, respect and dignity

It is in light of this that I welcome the Same-Sex Marriage ruling of the Supreme Court of the United States of America in the case of Obergefell v. Hodges where James Obergefell sued to have himself recognised as the spousal survivor on his husband’s death certificate.

The majority verdict delivered by Associate Justice Anthony Kennedy made a most profound announcement that should once and for all put paid to the culture wars and wedge issues that have long become the staple of conservative American rhetoric and religious disputing.

“No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfilment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilisation's oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right. The judgement of the Court of Appeals for the Sixth Circuit is reversed. It is so ordered.”

I read this to mean that love is the foundation of marriage regardless of the pairing of genders and it deserves to be treated with respect, dignity and fully honoured by the law of the land.

Just over a month before, Ireland, a recently very Catholic country voted in a referendum that garnered 62% of the votes accepting that, “Marriage may be contracted in accordance with law by two persons without distinction as to their sex.”

Fundamentally, marriage as an institution whichever way you view it is rapidly becoming more a subject of recognising a commitment of consenting adults and providing them with all the rights, the privileges and the benefits that such a union entails before the law. It must not be reductively seen in its primary purpose for procreation, else people cannot make choices about having offspring and to be found infertile will seemingly be too unnatural to contemplate, yet life is that different for different people.

Address the matter of consent

More importantly, what we should address is where minors or non-adults are conscripted by mechanisms of religion or custom into marriages outside of their fully informed consent, but coerced by parentage, relations, traditions or customs – such activities generally defined as child marriage can in no way be accepted as a contractual engagement of commitment between consenting adults or an expression of love, no matter how that illicit union eventually turns out.

Then, on the issue where people especially the Supreme Court Chief Justice, John Roberts averred that the majority ruling he dissented to might lead to polygamy, if the question of marriage with the view to equality does not fully enshrine and honour the rights to polyandry too, then polygamy should not have the free run to trample on the marriage commitments of the woman or consign her to sharing her husband if the man will not countenance the idea of sharing his wife.

One to one, on the matter of love and commitment, marriage is a wonderful thing and as James Obergefell did say, he hopes that the term ‘gay marriage’ will soon become a thing of the past as we just default to the simple term, marriage.