Excerpt from This American Life regarding children confronting their parents:
Aric Knuth
I have two completely different understandings of my dad in my head. One is that dad I knew and missed and was really mad at as a kid, and one is the dad I know now. And I don't know. I feel like maybe asking him those questions, I wanted to conjure up that younger version and see what a total jerk he was so that I could really be mad at him. It didn't happen. And I just saw the dad that I've known for the past few years. And I'm not really mad at him.
Ira Glass
Right. You're still mad at that young dad.
Aric Knuth
But he's gone. And there's this sweet, kind of sad, loving, older guy there now.
Ira Glass
But how unsatisfying for you and for everyone who wants to confront their parents, given the fact that the people who they're mad at are sort of gone and have been replaced by these kinder, gentler, more sensitive people.
Aric Knuth
Totally unsatisfying. And I think probably then confronting your parents never works. Confronting your parents never works because by the time you get around to doing it, your parents are totally different people.
Ira Glass
Yeah.
Aric Knuth
They're gone, and there are these different beings sitting in front of you when you confront them.
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Hark Triton, hark! Bellow, bid our father the Sea King rise from the depths full foul in his fury! Black waves teeming with salt foam to smother this young mouth with pungent slime, to choke ye, engorging your organs til' ye turn blue and bloated with bilge and brine and can scream no more - only when he, crowned in cockle shells with slitherin' tentacle tail and steaming beard take up his fell be-finned arm, his coral-tine trident screeches banshee-like in the tempest and plunges right through yer gullet, bursting ye - a bulging bladder no more, but a blasted bloody film now and nothing for the harpies and the souls of dead sailors to peck and claw and feed upon only to be lapped up and swallowed by the infinite waters of the Dread Emperor himself - forgotten to any man, to any time, forgotten to any god or devil, forgotten even to the sea, for any stuff for part of Winslow, even any scantling of your soul is Winslow no more, but is now itself the sea!