Disclaimer: Characters/Concepts property of Jonathan Larson
"Everybody's got the right to their dreams" -Stephen Sondheim
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July 23, 1989: My Old Man
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It was always the same with him. "Follow your dreams," he'd say, as long as my dreams were his. A child should never have to bear the name of his father. It's one of those legacy things, like they think they can make up for all their mistakes in their life by pressing them upon their sons. He should have known better - his father did the same to him.
So I was supposed to go to NYU just like him. Ever since I was a child it was always, "You're going to go to New York University just like your father and grandpa, aren't you? That's daddy's little man". I remember an excessive use of violet in my room decor as a child. He had the pendants and the matching sweatshirts. Christ, it was brainwashing. But the thing was that when it all came down to it and I got that acceptance packet in the mail, I seriously wanted to kill myself. I mean, it was his dream, not mine. Mark and I had planned the whole thing out. Brown University. Not too illustrious and just far enough away from home that we'd only have to visit during the holidays. I wanted to tear up that packet. Burn it. If I had gotten a rejection letter it would have been so much easier. True, I still would've let my old man down, but he could accept that I didn't get in. Instead, he couldn't fathom the idea that I simply didn't want to go.
I remember the fight as if it was yesterday. He practically wanted to disown me. He yelled, and I yelled. But it wasn't so much the harsh words exchanged that I remember, it was the look in his eyes...the look of utter disappointment.
So I had declared my independence. I didn't have to be like him or his father before him. I was a grown man, capable of making my own decisions. I had the scholarships and college fund savings. I didn't need him. It was my choice and I took great pride in that.
But here I am two years later and giving in. He must have known I would. I couldn't stand the silence, my father's down cast eyes, the relatives, the rejection. Every person has his Achilles' heel and he was mine. I had to make him proud. Above all else, I needed his approval. So, I filed for a transfer to NYU and was accepted. Leonard N. Stern School of Business. Business school...go figure. And transferring is not the easiest task in the world. It was all part of his plan. He knew I'd cave. It was a test. A test that he won. This time. Mark calls me a sell-out. He's right.
"Everybody's got the right to their dreams" -Stephen Sondheim
***********************
July 23, 1989: My Old Man
***********************
It was always the same with him. "Follow your dreams," he'd say, as long as my dreams were his. A child should never have to bear the name of his father. It's one of those legacy things, like they think they can make up for all their mistakes in their life by pressing them upon their sons. He should have known better - his father did the same to him.
So I was supposed to go to NYU just like him. Ever since I was a child it was always, "You're going to go to New York University just like your father and grandpa, aren't you? That's daddy's little man". I remember an excessive use of violet in my room decor as a child. He had the pendants and the matching sweatshirts. Christ, it was brainwashing. But the thing was that when it all came down to it and I got that acceptance packet in the mail, I seriously wanted to kill myself. I mean, it was his dream, not mine. Mark and I had planned the whole thing out. Brown University. Not too illustrious and just far enough away from home that we'd only have to visit during the holidays. I wanted to tear up that packet. Burn it. If I had gotten a rejection letter it would have been so much easier. True, I still would've let my old man down, but he could accept that I didn't get in. Instead, he couldn't fathom the idea that I simply didn't want to go.
I remember the fight as if it was yesterday. He practically wanted to disown me. He yelled, and I yelled. But it wasn't so much the harsh words exchanged that I remember, it was the look in his eyes...the look of utter disappointment.
So I had declared my independence. I didn't have to be like him or his father before him. I was a grown man, capable of making my own decisions. I had the scholarships and college fund savings. I didn't need him. It was my choice and I took great pride in that.
But here I am two years later and giving in. He must have known I would. I couldn't stand the silence, my father's down cast eyes, the relatives, the rejection. Every person has his Achilles' heel and he was mine. I had to make him proud. Above all else, I needed his approval. So, I filed for a transfer to NYU and was accepted. Leonard N. Stern School of Business. Business school...go figure. And transferring is not the easiest task in the world. It was all part of his plan. He knew I'd cave. It was a test. A test that he won. This time. Mark calls me a sell-out. He's right.