Rebel with some causes

Sometimes I still balk at strictures in my life. On one hand I am a decent, law-abiding, relatively hardworking individual, who pays his taxes, serves on boards and committees, and does the 'right thing', whatever that might happen to be. On the other hand, sometimes I don't want to do the 'right' thing. Sometimes I want to cut away and be a "man behaving badly."

But, the penalties for bad behavior are often harsher than what I would want to face at this point in my life. Added to which, I genuinely hate disappointing people, or making them feel wretched as a result of an action of mine. Yet, no J. Alfred Prufrock am I. I want to dare to do more than merely "eat a peach." Much more.

When I was younger and maybe more self-involved, there were times when I caroused too much, drank too much, and found myself in the arms and beds of wonderful (and sometimes not-so-wonderful) females with whom I had no business being in those aforementioned arms or beds. In retrospect, it was great. It was liberating, it made me feel that I had extended a digit towards convention and had fulfilled my own hedonistic aspirations. The memories of such encounters are still good ones. At the same time, there was always guilt. I consoled myself that I was reacting to the restrictions of very controlling spouses, therefore, I was justified. Bullshit, in a word. And, I no longer do that, and no longer want to do that because, I am blessed in sharing home, hearth and bed with a person who is remarkably uncontrolling. Consequently, there is nothing to rebel against.

As with so many things, I blame my "poetic" propensities to 'act out' on the very harsh and controlling upbringing I underwent. This isn't in my imagination. My parents were powerfully Victorian and couched no deviation from the mainstream. Consequently, as kids will do, I deviated as much as possible. I wasn't a well-behaved student; I rarely if ever studied; and I cut whatever educational corners I could, but still left myself sufficient wiggle-room to actually make it through school, to graduate, and to also graduate from university.

My parents, my father especially, never wavered in his attempts to control me. Throughout my 20s and even 30s, he would state his opinion about my inadequacies. One day I exploded at him and told him quite frankly: "I don't need to listen to you or your opinions about my failures. I am the chair of the English department at a large secondary school. There are two men in that department who are actually your age. They're quite prepared to listen to my opinions, so butt the hell out." He, as an aside, never tried to pull such rank again.

So now, with a lot of history behind me, and being relatively content with my life, I still sometimes look around me and wonder, as did Miss Peggy Lee, "Is that all there is?" If so, then so be it. But sometimes those peaches do look awfully good.