Family Affair

My mom, Dad, and I sit around the dining room table, enjoying our after dinner apple pie la modes when my father pulls out a pistol and points it at my mother. My mother sighs as she shakes her head.

"Robert! You're pointing that thing at me."

"Oh, I'm sorry, my dear." Beaming, he continues, "I want to show James the newest prototype of the 4XP from the pistol line of our J. S Williams Arms, Company. Our marketing department predicts this pistol will be our company's all-time best-seller, Son. It'll go on sale when we celebrate our centennial next year. We are targeting it for law enforcement professionals. Here, look." 

He hands me the gun.

 I look it over, then gave it back. "It's nice. Dad."

"Nice? It's a nine millimeter with a Black stainless steel chassis. The technicians are developing an optimally adjustable handgrip. It's an optics ready, semi-automatic pistol, James. And it'll come with a limited warranty and a lifetime service policy."

"That's great. Dad."

My dad looks at my mom and then at me. He sits back, hooks his thumbs inside his vest pocket. I know from his posture; he has something important to say. He clears his throat and begins. 

"James, as you well know, my J. S. Williams Arms Company is the oldest black-owned weapons manufacturer in the world. Through the years, there has always been a Williams as the CEO. You know, running things. Well, son, I'll be 80 years old on my next birthday. Although I feel half my age, I know the time has come for me to retire."

 I knew my dad was contemplating retirement, yet his announcement takes me by surprise. But more surprises were ahead.

Dad continues. "James, every Summer for the past 25 years, you've worked in the factory. You know its operations. Now, James, it is time for you to reap the benefits of all your hard work. My son, at the next board meeting, I will announce you will replace me as the new CEO of the J.S. Williams Arns, Company."

I almost fall out of my chair. This is the day I've dreaded. 

Without thinking, I blurt out, "Ah. No."

My dad sits there, staring with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. 

"What do you mean, 'No'? Are you saying you are refusing?"

"Wait a minute, Dad. I appreciate your offer, but, yes, I respectfully decline."

My mother sighs.

 "James, your father, and I assumed you would keep the family tradition and follow in your great grandfather, grandfather, and father's career path. Son, it's a matter of family honor. Why won't you accept this position of responsibility?"

I pause for a moment, thinking of a way of saying how I feel without hurting the people I love most in this world.

"Mom. Dad, with all due respect, I don't want to produce deadly weapons. I love being a special education teacher."

My dad frowns. 

"A schoolteacher? You're passing up a golden opportunity to be the CEO and owner of one of America's most profitable businesses to remain a school teacher. Why? What so appealing about being a teacher?"

"Self-fulfillment, Dad. I wish you could see the joy in a child's eyes when you're teaching, and they suddenly get it. Their eyes light up, and their faces burst into smiles. Their feeling of accomplishment is life-changing. No experience can match it."

My dad sits back and gives me a puzzled look.

"Mom, you understand, don't you?" 

"Yes, I think so, but this is a great opportunity, Son. Your Dad was counting on you to continue the family business. Now, he'll either have to stay on or sell the company. Either decision will break his heart."

"Mom, I know it's a great opportunity, and I don't want to break his heart. But I don't want to attribute to the world's gun deaths."

My dad taps his forehead with the palm of his hand.  

"Don't tell me you're one of those anti-second amendment nuts who believe guns kill people?"

"Dad, you can't deny the mass shootings are happening more frequently now than ever before, In schools like Columbine in Colorado, Parkland in Florida, and especially the small children at Sandy Hook in Connecticut. Gun attacks are even being committed in worship houses like in Charleston, South Carolina, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and Sutherland Springs, Texas. Need I go on?" 

"Wait a minute, James. I hate to sound trite, but guns don't kill people; people kill people."

"Yes, but by making them more plentiful and powerful, we are making them more deadly. With weak background checks, anyone can purchase a firearm."

"It's the government's responsibility to make sure these weapons get into the right hands, James, not the gun manufacturers." 

I quip, "I guess it's true what they say for people's safety; money wins out every time."

"Oh, how self-righteous you are now, James. I didn't hear you complaining over the years when our company business allowed you to live in this big house, go to the best schools, wear the latest fashions, and drive fancy. Where did you think our money came from?"

I sit, not making eye contact.

"Oh, no snappy comeback, smart-aleck? I thought you had all the answers."

My mother intercedes, "Okay, Robert, give him a chance."

"I will always appreciate what you and mom have done for me. But, you."

My dad interrupts me. 

"I don't know, James, sometimes you don't act like it."

"I'll always appreciate the sacrifices you and mom have made for me. You've always supported me and my dreams. In fact, you encouraged me to chase those dreams."

My dad shakes his head. "Yes, that was when we thought we shared the same dream. We believed we shared the same dream that you'd take over as CEO of the company someday. Not that your dream would become our nightmare."

"Dad, you and mom taught me to pursue my dream. My dream is to be the best special ed teacher I can be. Maybe one day, I'll be a principal and have my own students and staff to supervise."

My dad drums his fingers on the table. 

"James, you are such a disappointment to us."

My mother stood up.

"Robert, may I speak to you in the other room. Excuse us, dear."

My parents walk into the kitchen. Not knowing I was still in earshot, I hear them whisper.

"Wait a minute, Robert. Don't include me in that sentiment of being so disappointed. We are both hurt, but he is doing what we taught him, Dear. He is pursuing what makes him happy. James has to live his life in pursuit of his happiness, not ours. Understand that, don't you? Don't let your anger cost me, my son. You'll either stay on or sell. I suggest you sell, and we take the time to travel."

"Of course, you're right, Sara. I guess I was just upset. He is the only son of an only son. I always thought of James as my heir apparent, my successor. Do you think my attitude might drive James away from us? Lord knows I couldn't bear that."

"Come, Robert, let's go back into the dining room."

My parents walk in, and I'm still seated at the table.

My dad begins. 

"You've got your heart set on the special education teaching thing, huh?"

"Yes, Dad. I do."

"Well, you just remember, you're a Williams. I expect you to be the best damn special education teacher out there. You hear?"

I smile at them both.

"Thanks, mom. Thanks, Dad."

I hug them both.