coming of age; focused on the psychological & moral growth of the protagonist from youth to adulthood
Dad was always rather protective of us when we were growing up. We had to keep away from the fire, stand well back when the cattle were being led out to pasture, stay away from the fields when the men were harvesting or spreading muck… nearly all the fun of the farm was closed to us, or so it seemed.
He may have been over-cautious, which might have been a mistake. But all of my childhood was a constant chorus of ‘don’t do that!’ or ‘mind yourself, lad!’ or ‘careful now.’
But once I had turned fifteen years old, as you might guess, I decided I had grown weary of the protection.
Eventually, it was time for a confrontation. ‘But I want to be allowed to make a few mistakes, pa,’ I said. I fear my tone was whining, but I was not happy at all.
‘Mistakes? That’s how you learn, you know.’ He sat at the kitchen table, mending a hoe with twine and patience.
‘Yes! That’s it! I want to learn, pa, and living here keeps me busy doing the same things, never, getting any responsibility. Let me look after some of the animals on my own for once, huh? Let me keep the books. I’ve watched you doing that for years now, and I’m sure I can add up the columns and balance the budget. Or let me arrange things with the servants who do the cooking so we get some new, interesting meals…’
‘I’ll give it some thought, son. Perhaps when you’re older we can look again at the job and duties we give you. But for now, please rest easy that I know I best and will always protect each of my children…’
I boiled over in that instant. ‘But I’m not a child any longer! Don’t you see?’ I slammed the door as I left the room. It may not have been the most adult way to behave, but I was furious.
A few days later, I had made up my mind to get away, to see life, to experience adventure and to let him know I was not to be wrapped in swaddling bands any more.
‘Let me have the inheritance now, and then I can go my own way. You won’t have to worry about me any more.’
‘I love you, son.’
‘So you say, pa, and I’m sure you mean it in your own way, but I have to go and find myself.’
‘Are you sure this is what you want?’
His delaying tactics were typical. He would doubt I knew what I was asking, try to get me to see the wisdom in caution and then nothing would change. It had happened so many times before.
But this time, I was wise to his technique, and wouldn’t settle. I badgered him for days and days and he finally caved.
‘I don’t think this is really what you want, my boy…’ he said as he handed me a bag full of coins.
‘Well, I am a little tired of your opinion, pa. Thanks for the cash, and goodbye!’
Yes, yes, I was harsh, but it was the only way I knew of asserting my new-found freedom and adulthood.
A few weeks later, I started to understand some of the complications. My cash was dwindling – no, that’s a word that doesn’t capture the frantic pace – my cash was haemorrhaging out of the bag.
I’d made some friends; a few gamblers and drinkers, plus several others who liked the rich food and high life I could now enjoy. I loved giving commands to the waiters and cooks, to bring me ever more exotic and expensive meals.
It was a time of laughter and wild parties, with all sorts of experiments in the realm of wining and dining, plus enthusiastic adventures in all other kinds of sensual pleasures. It was a long way from my former life of standing back while others fed the calf, or watching from a distance while pa added up the numbers, I can tell you.
Anyway, it didn’t take long for me to discover that the coins were not going to last. Somehow I had spent it all rather quickly. Whoops! So much for watching pa keep the books balanced… And the friends melted away.
And, which was worse, the country was facing a difficult time, as a famine was now upon us. The crops had failed, and soon everyone was starving. Far from being an adventure into adulthood and experiments in wild excess, life had become extremely complicated and serious. I realised, with a shocking jolt, that I had behave spectacularly foolishly, and was now facing the comeuppance.
I had to find a job. I lied about my farming experience, and convince this chap that I’d be suitable as someone to tend his pigs – nasty, unclean animals, yes, but it was a job. You never, know, there might be food to eat at the end of the day…
So here I was, looking after animals. But it brought little satisfaction.
Three days later, and I still hadn’t been paid or, indeed, had any dinner. I watched the porkers, snouts down in their trough, and wondered what those rotting, stinking pods tasted like…
And then it struck me – my pa’s hired men got a good dinner every day back at the farm. I could go back there and ask pa to hire me. I couldn’t go back as his son, as I think I had cooked my goose on that score. I think I’d been pretty childish, to be honest. But he might be willing to take me on as a servant… My wasting had been a disgraceful rebellion, and I was thoroughly ashamed of the way I had behaved.
So I walked away from the sty and made my way back home. I practiced my speech as I got closer.
But what’s this? Pa is actually running, yes, running down the road to greet me! ‘My boy! Alive! You came back!’
‘Pa, I am not longer worthy…’ I think I’d done some of the growing up I been hoping to do.
‘Get up lad, let me kiss you! Look at the state of your sandals! Servant, fetch shoes for him, and a coat. Here, put on this family ring! We must have a celebration!’
‘What? I don’t understand? I don’t deserve…’
‘Let’s kill the fatted calf and have a party!’
This was so different from the way I’d left, under a cloud of my own making. Pa was very happy to see me and treated me as a son even more than before.
But this time, I was a wiser, more adult son.
This time, there was no calf to fatten any more, as we have roasted him.
This time, there was no standing around watching, as there was farm work to be done, and Pa encouraged me to get stuck in.
The constant chorus now had changed to ‘Have a go! Try for yourself! Go on, take a chance!’
