I read McCarthy's memoir Brat a few years ago. I picked it up thinking I'd be reading a frothy celeb memoir like Rob Lowe's. Instead, I found myself reading a bleak memoir of a man with depression and anxiety turning into an alcoholic as he desperately tried to self-medicate the pain away. He just happened to make a few successful teen movies during that period. While the memoir did not turn out to be what I was looking for, I did think McCarthy was a solid writer with a strong voice. So when I saw he had written a travel/parenting book I decided to give it a go.
I might be predisposed to liking this because we have sons the exact same age. I related to a lot of what he was discussing in terms of parenting a young adult. Being able to spend a month traveling with my son would be both a blessing and a curse, for both of us lol. Financially I don't see that happening, unless I become a travel writer for National Geographic like McCarthy is. I did appreciate that McCarthy was well aware most people could not take the time off to do what he & Sam did, walking across Spain for a month. Maybe if my husband & I are fit enough when we retire that we could do this? I found the concept of walking across Spain very appealing.
There is not a lot of dramatic action. The focus is on McCarthy's internal musings and on his relationship with his son. This is not an adventure book with wild animals and extreme sports and death-defying acts. I can see others deriding the book as a lot of navel-gazing but sometimes I like to navel-gaze myself so I was fine with it.
Some of my many Kindle highlights to help me later recall what this book was all about:
The satisfaction of needs asserting themselves and being met simply, superseding daily luxuries due to the severity of circumstances, is something in which I have found deep value on the few instances that it's been demanded in my life. And it's something I'd like my son to experience. But seeking out hardship is the dubious indulgence of a pampered fool. Ok, yes, this is a very first world thing to say, the pleasure of roughing it, but he is well aware of that.
I want to assure Sam that the walk will be worth his time, that yes, great insights will come to him; life-changing thoughts that will benefit him are footsteps away. But such assurances would be infantilizing to Sam now. My son is man enough to realize that I can't know. My baseless assertions, no matter how well intentioned, would only succeed in making him value my opinions less. And who am I really looking to assuage with them?
Often, while traveling, I abstain from listening to music, preferring to not imprint a familiar soundtrack on a new experience. This is an interesting perspective about why it's good to walk with nothing but your own thoughts as company.
(This is the portion of the narrative in which the older person proclaims how grateful he is that he did not come of age amid the current thorny thicket of social media, with its real-time dangers of impulsivity.) Haha, yes, I feel seen.
Like any meaningful relationship, this walk acts as a receptacle for our fears, doubts, and resentments, while summoning our more noble traits. It tests our patience and endurance, while offering up satisfaction, moments of delight, and bone-deep intimacy. Ok, I'm totally sold!
I question whether | really do still harbor such insecurities, as I habitually claim, or are they, like a worn-out shirt, a thing I wear out of habit. The perils of strongly identifying with our flaws.
There are moments when life seems to make the kind of sense we often wish it made-when the universe seems to sit in our lap, when things are revealed in a simplicity of being and unity. They are moments that add up to more than the sum of their parts moments of serendipity when things come together in a meeting of circumstance, timing, and mood. It's impossible to predict or plan or fully explain such times. They defy efforts at repeating, even if all outward elements are the same. That they seem more common in travel than at home is one of the primary reasons people like me bother to go anywhere in the first place.
My own sense of shame has held me back both personally and professionally on countless occasions. Seeing such liberation in my son ought to bring me joy, and it does, but I first need to see beyond my own limitations.
I consider Sam's complete lack of concern for my condition. It speaks to the parent/child dynamic in which I as the parent take care of my child's needs, and being the parent, have no needs of my own.
It might also speak to the part of me that has kept my needs aloof from my son, choosing only the emotional safety of that parent/ child relationship, so that now when empathy is needed on his part, there is no habit-life of concern to call upon. Or maybe Sam's cavalier "man-up" attitude is appropriate, and I just need to stop acting like a baby. Ehhh, to me he is throwing Sam under the bus a bit here. Or maybe I need to "man up" too haha. My adult kids have empathy for me when I'm sick or hurt. Maybe there is a father/son dynamic going on here that is different than the mother/son one.
Our internal caprices create our individual experiences as much or more than the country we cross or the people we encounter. Makes me think of the way a scene was edited years ago on the tv show The Amazing Race where 2 teams were taking taxis through a city. One was marveling at how exciting and fun it was to experience a new country and see new things while the other team complained about how dirty and gross the city was. Same setting, wildly different attitudes causing extremely different experiences.
I began to wonder when it is along the way that children start to develop their own theories of life and existence. "Where'd you learn all this stuff?" "YouTube." HAHAHA, is he at my house?
I'm aware how much Sam embraces the camaraderie of the group. He needs and wants more than I have to offer him. That I would rather spend the evening in his company or on my own speaks only to my loner tendencies and is of little consequence compared with what I know my son is getting from the group As an introvert parent with an extrovert son, I really get this.
As has been the case when I walk out solo, I'm happy to be alone, while I'm sad to be without Sam. The paradox of parenthood.
Although the greater world might reasonably argue that this walk has no real purpose, that it achieves no practical goals, and so is of no merit or consequence, there's a growing awareness among us, without being able to quite name it yet, that what we are doing is somehow of import and has meaning. Each day's walk creates more internal space, even as the exact alchemy of it eludes us.
Viewing the world through the prism of fear dominated the first half of my life, and-as a result of my experience in the Meseta during my first Camino-the imperfect challenging of that fear has been a driving force of the second.
I want to go back to those damn parent/ teacher conferences and properly defend my son. I want to watch those endless karate classes one more time. I want a redo on his birth. I want all of it again. Yep. I get it. I'd be such a better parent if I had a do-over!