Un-Prodigal Son

For the 4.5 of you who actually read this blog, you might find this post to be a bit of heresy, but it's something that has troubled me my entire life and there is no better place than here to spell it out given that no one knows or cares what I write here.

It concerns the story in the Bible of the Prodigal Son. Most people have heard a variant of the story but if you haven't, it's found in the book of Luke, Chapter 15. The story is being told by Jesus and it begins at verse 11. It's a rather long affair which you can read here or if you're familiar with it just skip down to the next paragraph " And he said, A certain man had two sons:12 And the younger of them said to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me. And he divided unto them his living. 13 And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living. 14 And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land; and he began to be in want. 15 And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. 16 And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat: and no man gave unto him. 17 And when he came to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! 18 I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, 19 And am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants. 20 And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. 21 And the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son. 22 But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet: 23 And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry: 24 For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry. 25 Now his elder son was in the field: and as he came and drew nigh to the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 And he called one of the servants, and asked what these things meant. 27 And he said unto him, Thy brother is come; and thy father hath killed the fatted calf, because he hath received him safe and sound. 28 And he was angry, and would not go in: therefore came his father out, and intreated him. 29 And he answering said to his father, Lo, these many years do I serve thee, neither transgressed I at any time thy commandment: and yet thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends: 30 But as soon as this thy son was come, which hath devoured thy living with harlots, thou hast killed for him the fatted calf. 31 And he said unto him, Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. 32 It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found."

I've felt that I've always been the un-prodigal son in this story and that, like the older brother, I get the short end of the stick. I guess it could be argued that the older brother got advantages that the younger didn't and thus, it's not a fair comparison but I don't see any real indication of that. I've heard such stories during my life. Such as when I was able to successfully navigate my neighborhood growing up which was just as rough for me as all of my peers. People would say that I didn't know how tough those streets were. Nonsense, as I was the one ducking and dodging to make it to school and back safely like everyone else. Yet, I was never celebrated. Like the older son in this story, I was busy doing my work (schoolwork at that time) yet it was those who had been in trouble who were lavished with attention. I remember, growing up, that I had a cousin who was constantly in trouble with the law. In fact, this lasted well into his 50's. There would be these frantic calls around the extended family to try and get folks to come up with money for bail. I'm sure his parents would have mortgaged their house, had they owned one, to get this guy out of jail. Yet, I was never offered or expected a dime when I was in school, which included going on to college. How about a donation to the United Negro Gary Hoover Fund? Like this story, when I asked why no one celebrated me graduating from high school, college, Masters or Doctorate degree, I felt the answers were like what this older son got "you're going to be fine in the long run" or "you know how to take care of yourself". Well, I damn sure better know how to take care of myself, given that no one else was caring. 

When I was a kid, I thought about acting a fool like my peers but not so much because I was drawn to any particular criminal activity but more so because it seemed like those prodigal's got the love and us suckers doing the right thing were left behind. Of course, these days, I hardly give a damn what anyone says and I'm going to do what's right in my eye because it's right and I'm not looking for approval from anyone but it does make me wonder about this adage that "nice guys finish last." The message I get from this story is that the older son will be better off in the long run because he did the right thing. But damn wouldn't it be nice to get a little love along the way? Who says the older son will even be around in the long run? At the time of this writing, I'm in my mid-50's and wondering just how long is the long run?

When I was in college, I went to the church that my family had gone to when I was a teenager. There was this girl named Kim who attended that church also. Man, I liked her. I had known her for a long time given that we had gone to high school together. We didn't have any classes together but I definitely noticed her back then. I had done a stint in the army and was back home going to college. I gathered up my nerve and asked Kim out. She said I wasn't her type. Crushed! It turned out that her type was the prodigal son-type. This church had a connection with the local Men's Mission in the city. Thus, guys who were homeless and such could go there and get a meal and bed as they tried to piece their lives back together. Often those guys would show up at the church on Sunday morning. Well, Kim took a liking to one of those guys and they were dating. Every time I saw them together it was like a knife in my gut but there wasn't much I could do but go on with my studies. I just wondered what the heck Kim saw in that guy that I didn't have. He appeared to be just as ugly as me. We both were broke. Well, about three months later, word got to us that Kim had left that church and wasn't coming back. What had happened? Apparently, that guy she was dating had stolen money from her then stole her car and driven off to Chicago with both. That church wasn't safe to Kim is what she said. She wanted to be where the guys were normal. What the hell? But this just continued a pattern where the dude who is steady and working in the fields of his dad is going to get ignored while his brothers live it up with Kim then steal her car. Okay, that last part is not in the Bible but you get my point. 

As most of you who know me or have read this blog know, I run. I run regularly because I'm told that it's healthy and the right thing to do for a lot of good reasons. Go back and read my post in this blog "My Hate, Hate Relationship With Running" By my estimation, I've run about 16,000 miles. That's enough to get you well over half the way around the circumference of the Earth. I've been doing it for almost 4 decades now but I've never been cheered for it. Think about all the things that have happened in your life over the last 40 years and then try to think of the one constant. For me it's been staying as healthy as I can while still having a life. It doesn't come easy and it's hard work. I've never enjoyed getting up at 5am three times a week to run then another 3 times a week to work out but I've done it. But what have I heard as I've worked in the fields of my dad and not gotten overweight or overly unhealthy? I get comments like "you are so self centered",  "you're just doing that to act like you're better than me", "it's not healthy to be that healthy". I have no idea what that last comment even means. The point is that I see love for those who are way overweight but try (and mostly fail) to lose weight. But is there any love for a guy like me who kept it together for so long such that I didn't need to lose weight? Nope! I'm the older brother who is supposed to be happy for those who get back to where I have always been. I don't get it. Over the last 40 years, I've changed jobs at least 5 times, lost both of my parents, been run out by a hurricane, had knee and back surgery, etc. so I've had every excuse in the world to have stopped "working in the fields of the family farm" and gone out to cut loose. But like that dude, I stayed home and got no love for my efforts. 

So, yeah, I'm not a fan of this story. The older brother, in a lot of ways, is me. I am happy being me and I guess I better be, but it is disappointing to always see the praise for those struggling to come back to where I've always been. Can I get a bit of that "fatted calf"?