To the Band of Brothers: November 3, 2020

Fr. Willie ‘87
Good morning!

I was reminded of a funny story yesterday.

It was on a Friday, when I was a senior in high school, my father, out of the blue, asked me if I wanted to go to the movies with him. I was surprised by his invitation because the last time I had gone to the movies with my father was to see Disney’s Pete’s Dragon in the old Miracle Mile movie theater when I was eight years old. I love going to the movies, but when I got old enough, going to them was something I did with my friends.
Not wanting to let my father down, I accepted his invitation. I called up my friends and told them I was not going to hang out with them because I was going to the movies with Mr. García-Tuñón. They, of course, asked me if everything was okay and wanted to know if my father was dying or had gone momentarily insane. I assured them that things were fine.

The next step was figuring out what movie we were going to watch. I don’t think my father had planned that far ahead, so he told me to pick one. Kevin Costner was starring in a new film released a week earlier called No Way Out. In it, Costner plays a Russian spy who falls in love with an American girl. Understand, in 1987 Kevin Costner was still enjoying popularity from films like The Untouchables and Silverado and would later hit it big with Field of Dreams and Dances with Wolves before crashing and burning with bombs like Waterworld and The Postman.

I confess, when I chose the movie, I didn’t pay much attention to the rating. Because I was attending with my father, it was a huge error on my part. We walked into University Theater, the one that was located in the shopping mall on 107th avenue across from FIU, and, as we strolled down the aisle, ran into some of my friends from Belen. My father and I said hello to them, then proceeded to find a seat closer to the front of the theater.

Not 20 minutes into the movie, as luck would have it, an inappropriate scene (at least inappropriate when you are sitting next to my dad) between Costner’s character and Sean Young’s character took place in the back of a limo. My father tapped me on the shoulder and informed me we were leaving. Sure enough, he got up and walked out. I was petrified; I couldn’t move. All I could think about was my friends sitting somewhere behind us. I cringed at the thought of them watching us storm out of the theater. So, I didn’t move. Not five minutes had passed when from the back of the theater I heard my father call out into the darkness: “Willie García-Tuñón, ¡te dije que nos íbamos!” (“Willie García-Tuñón, I told you we were leaving!”).

I thought that my world was coming to an end. I was so embarrassed. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I thought quickly of options: a) run out the exit door located at the front left of the theater; b) sit perfectly still hoping that he would just leave on his own and I would take a taxi home; c) hope that the very rare, but supposedly possible phenomenon of spontaneous combustion would happen to me right then and there, or d) just get up and take it like a man. I opted for “d”, figuring options “a” and “b” would only worsen the situation for me and jeopardize my physical welfare, and “c” was a long shot.

Slowly, I made my way up the aisle trying to avoid eye contact with my friends. I heard them say under their breaths, “dead man walking” as I passed them. As I walked out the doors, I looked up to see my father, arms crossed across his chest. As we stepped out of the theater I started to give my father a piece of my mind. I told him I couldn’t believe he embarrassed me like that in front of my friends. I told him I went to the movies with my friends all the time and they would never do anything like that to me. It was at this point my dad said something to me that made a big impression and I have never forgotten. He said, “Willie, I’m not your friend, I’m your father.”
He was so right.

When I was a kid, I had hundreds of friends I hung out with all the time. The last thing I needed from my father was another one. What I needed most was for him to be my dad. I needed him to help maintain that drawn line in our relationship that was never to be crossed, because his role as mentor and disciplinarian was critical to my proper upbringing. My dad understood that his necessary and, oftentimes, the uncomfortable role of father would be jeopardized if he were just “one of the guys.” I realized how the moments of embarrassment and anger, the moments of annoyance and frustration, were par for the course in any relationship between father and son.

I have always looked up to my dad. He’s the guy who set the bar high and never, ever lowered it just to be cool or even friendly. He knew that by lowering it, he was simply doing me a disservice and sending the wrong message. For that, I will always be grateful.

Auspice Maria
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BELEN JESUIT PREPARATORY SCHOOL
500 SW 127th Avenue, Miami, FL 33184
phone: 305.223.8600 | fax: 305.227.2565 | email: webmaster@belenjesuit.org
Belen Jesuit Preparatory School was founded in 1854 in Havana, Cuba by Queen Isabel II of Spain.  The task of educating students was assigned to the priests and brothers of the Society of Jesus (the Jesuits), whose teaching tradition is synonymous with academic excellence and spiritual discipline.  In 1961, the new political regime of Cuba confiscated the School property and expelled the Jesuit faculty.  The School was re-established in Miami the same year, and over the next decade, continued to grow.  Today, Belen Jesuit sits on a 30-acre site in western Dade County, only minutes away from downtown Miami.