On Being a Man
Learning how to hold disappointment
“You’re a pretty big wheel, ain’t you?”
my grandfather asks.
Words tossed my way
from a green armchair
in the dark corner of the front room
of his Appalachian home.
It’s like an impromptu game of catch,
his words propelled with disdain
(bewilderment?)
at the soft boy standing in his home.
Maybe it’s my dad’s fault.
Surely it’s my dad’s fault.
Mom has told me it’s my dad’s fault.
Mom uses heavy, sticky words like grandpa does.
This was her dad.
I was nothing like the men my grandfather knew:
strong, dominant brutes with calloused hands
whose days were spent underground
in the dark coal mines of Kentucky,
where the beauty of my grandfather’s otherworldly ice blue eyes
went mercifully unnoticed.
The men he knew lived in perpetual darkness,
entering the mines in the morning before dawn
and exiting at dusk,
the blackness seeping into their lungs
and slowly, painfully robbing them of air.
These men didn’t waste their breath
on unnecessary words.
My dad, the man my mother chose,
relishes the light,
his sensitive hazel eyes perpetually watery from being outside.
His hands are soft,
in spite of years of janitorial work before he joined the military,
reflections of his days working retail
and the brief time he taught high school history.
His words are too plentiful to be heavy or sharp,
like a constant barrage of ping pong balls that,
while irritating if beamed in your direction,
are never dense enough to leave a scar or sting when they hit you.
But the heavy sticky words my grandfather threw at me?
My mom taught me to catch them all
in my small, soft hands,
and not let them fall.
Hold some in my heart.
Hold some in my head.
Hold the weight of others like a hammer or pickaxe,
feel their burn like flares from a stick of dynamite
until my hands, too, became calloused.
I stare at him awkwardly, waiting for direction.
My mother is nowhere to be found
but also deeply present.
I respond to him like my father would.
“I guess I am, Grandpa. I guess I am a pretty big wheel.”
He glares at me,
those blue eyes glowing in the dark corner of the room.
He raises his strong, thick hand
like he’s going to strike me.
Watches me to see if I flinch.
Waits for me to retreat.
Waits for me to fall.
He reaches out, squeezes my shoulder hard,
and expels a deep disappointed sigh
(my mother learned that from him, as well)
as I turn and walk away.
About the Creator
F Cade Swanson
Queer dad from Virginia now living and writing in the Pacific Northwest. Dad poems, sad poems, stories about life. Follow me on insta at @fcadeswanson
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Masterful proofreading
Zero grammar & spelling mistakes
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Keep reading
More stories from F Cade Swanson and writers in Poets and other communities.
Where's the Glory?
In breaking news, rehabilitated Republican Senator Johnnie Johnson (Pronouns: HE, HIM, HIS) called a press conference from the Men’s room of the New Orleans Louis Armstrong International Airport, Concourse B, across from the Ignatius Reilly’s Lucky Dog stand. The Senator had just returned from a sexual reorientation rehabilitation program in Memphis, TN after being publically disgraced at a Buckee’s Truckstop restroom soliciting sex from an undercover cop three months ago. He is a founding member of the Reformed Christians for Christ, a conservative, pro-family and ex-gay advocacy group. In the spirit of being reborn, Senator Johnson invited reporters to marvel at his plans for a major remodeling of airport bathrooms.
By Cathy Schieffelin5 days ago in Humor
Comments (26)
Oh, F Cade, this is haunting and beautifully written, right down to your very word choices. (I especially LOVE the phrase heavy, sticky words). The family dynamics are so raw and real. I can't wait to read your other pieces!
The expectations of others can be a heavy weight to carry. I honestly believe that it can be the downfall of a lot of relationships, especially when those expectations are unspoken and simply assumed. This was a great read. I'm sure many of us have experienced this judgement in one way or another.
Congrats on Top Story
Your moving look at family relationships and masculinity strikes a deep chord, eloquently expressing the weight of expectations and statements that are passed down through the generations with unfiltered sensitivity.
Wow... what a well-written, thought-provoking, heart-wrenching piece of your psyche and life story... thank you so much for sharing it the way you did. God bless you and your family. 🙏💗🕊️
Congrats on Top Story!🥳🥳🥳
Sadly universal. The power of words to wound.... Or to heal. Beautifully written.
It feels heavy. You have summarized the points very cleverly. Top notched.
This is such a sad and poignant poem. Your use of imagery is beautiful and on point, and your words flow easily from one sentence to the next. I can feel those "Heavy, sticky words." I've had to catch many of those. This poem was sad but also a great read. Congratulations on a well-deserved top story!
This story is wonderful. I can feel the pain with your words on my screen. You find the best way to capture the essence of disappointment. I know exactly how you feel. This brought back memories. Keep up the incredible work. You inspire.
This comment has been deleted
Beautifully written. Like the best poems do, this one opens a window into deeper things.
This is a very sad and profound poem. Reading it broke my heart. You are not a disappointment to anyone. One day, you'll find it in your heart to see who you are underneath those harsh words. This poem sends out a strong message that actions and words can break the delicate heart and mind of a growing child.
I think this will stick with me like your grandfather's words. I have known these types who don't have much to say, but I've not forgotten what they have said. Your poem is excellent. Congrats on the TS.
I love that your mom taught you to be bold and strong and that you see wonder in your dad. I love that you didn't flinch from Grandpa. Opposites attract, right? So your mom and dad make a great couple for you to bounce between. Loved this poem!! Nobody is disappointed in you - it is in themselves. Congrats on TS.
Congrats on the Top Story! What a heavy poem. Each word feels so carefully chosen. This is one of the best poems I've ever read.
Great
Congratulations on TS.
Great poem. Very sad.
Every line used with meaning, like his grandfather, non wasted. A Picture is formed in ones mind as we read this and the emotions hang heavy. Congratulations
Excellent work. Everything perfect. Really. Just a delight to read.
So deep!
It is good
FANTASTIC! what emotion is demonstrated from this. love it.
Powerful, vulnerable, deeply moving words. Thank you for sharing this reflection 💙