It turned out that he was previously an engineer so illustrious that he had patents to his name. He had risen to a certain level in his organisation before he retired and then, started driving taxis just to pass time productively.
I was impressed with his achievements.
However, he spent barely 3 minutes telling us about his professional achievements and the better part of 30 minutes waxing lyrical about his 4 children. All had become professionals. 2 attended Cambridge. All 4 were loving, kind and family life was joyful. It was heartwarming to feel his fatherly pride pulse throughout the car, as his low and husky voice rose and fell, in measured cadence.
I remembered, then, reading in "Neither Civil Nor Servant" a quote from Eugene Yeo (Philip Yeo's son) - "I've always felt that [Philip Yeo] was unnaturally proud of us." Then, I turned around and looked at my own husband's chiselled face, and a truth hit me like a punch in my belly.
The Husband has an impressive list of achievements under his belt. Yet, he has not once boasted about what he has done. He never tells strangers what he does for a living. He seems to have no pride in what he has himself achieved.
- What do you work as?
- Aeronautical Engineer.
... is the curt response delivered in a tone that discourages further questioning.
The only time The Husband came close to boasting was when he posted The Daughter's 8 A level distinctions on Facebook. In private and amongst company, The Husband never ever recounts his own achievements. Yet, his pride in his children (who have accomplished so much less) is palpable.
When our children were small, he was often critical. He showed great displeasure at The Son's handwriting, did not approve of The Son skipping school and not doing HW, flew into a trembling rage when he caught The Son licking his plate at the dining table, and threw away The Son's most comfortable t-shirts because they looked like clothes only a beggar would wear.
The Husband praised them rarely and when they misbehaved, he shut them out of his consciousness. He did not want to know. I could never tell The Husband to scold our children. He simply assumed that was my job. As he got promoted upwards in his organisation, he became completely uninvolved in caring for them (aside from driving them around on weekends). HW, skinned knees, bullying, broken hearts, naughtiness... all were my job.
Yet today, if you ask The Husband to recount his greatest pride and joy, he will point at MY work - his children with me. He will say that he is most proud of our children. He thinks his daughter extraordinarily beautiful and accomplished. He is practically bursting with pride when he looks down at our son, asleep in his bed on weekends home from the army barracks.
I wonder if all men are like that. At the end of their lives, it appears, that nothing they have done to change the world even matters. They are proud only of their children, in a way they have no words to express.
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