the prodigal?

I love that we can laugh at what once caused conflict.

My nephew Eric, son of my brother Brian and my sister-in-law Bobbie, has grown a beard. It has gotten a bit out of hand in the minds of many family members. That includes his daughter Teaghan and me. At a recent Saturday morning breakfast Eric was describing how he had gotten his beard trimmed and the reaction was, “You did? We can’t tell.”

I told Eric that when I was in college before coming home for a break I would go to the barbershop in the Claremont village and get my hair trimmed. I would then head home and when my dad saw me he would say, “Why don’t you get a haircut?” Dad just grinned when I told the story. Eric replied, “We’re the black sheep.”

Black sheep? Me?

I was the one who managed my paper route on my own. Brian needed Dad’s help. I was responsible and went to college. I lived on my own and supported myself. Brian stayed at home for a long time, with different jobs and taking various community college courses. He was for the most part involved in public safety in various forms, but eventually ended up with a full-time career path job with what is now called CalFire.

But maybe I was the black sheep. Maybe I was the prodigal son.

I left for college in the fall after graduating high school. I never lived at home full-time after that. Two years after graduating from college I left the state and moved to South Texas, followed by Oklahoma City, and then the Bay Area and Silicon Valley. It would be forty-one years before I returned. Brian was the loyal son who stayed at home. He supported my mother through her long illness and was fully there for my dad after her death. I was engaged in riotous living (you might say) in the Bay Area. I never had a job feeding pigs. However, it was only after the company I had worked for sixteen plus years told me that they didn’t love me anymore (though they did make me a retiree) that I returned home.

Viewed that way, I was indeed the prodigal and Brian was the faithful son.