Watching The Batman, I was surprised at what a powerful message the movie delivers on intergenerational trauma and experiences that leave scars. Following the fragments and threads of subtle yet deep and lasting impacts of decisions of long dead parents and city leaders shows how invisible scars can cut hurt far worse than physical ones. As someone who has been hospitalized for breaking my back and then later for tearing my left pectoral[1], I can definitely relate and say that invisible scars cut far deeper. I don't talk about it a lot though fracturing my T7 and T8 vertebra left a deep and lasting impression on my body.
An action shot very close to the instant I tore my left pec in 2013. There aren’t any good pictures from when I broke my back in 2010.
If you ever see me fidgeting, usually the reason is that I'm working to proactively manage the arthritic pain and stiffness that comes with living with that injury. On the positive side, that's been an opportunity to learn so much about human biology and the deep connections between mind, body and spirit. I would not trade that for anything. In the immediate aftermath of breaking my back in 2010, I poured my heart and soul into writing A New California Dream.
Climbing an invisible mountain
I worked on that incessantly. I initially got curious about California perusing my spring junior year roommates books from the California Politics class. I wasn't signed up for the course though I would end up reading pretty much the entire syllabus. That Fall, my first semester of Senior Year, I used every opportunity in my courses to dig deeper into California's culture, politics, history and the pioneering spirit that has made this place so great. When I broke my back over Winter 2010, I resolved to use the opportunity that being bedridden afforded me to write a book.
I wrote the first words in the Huntington Hospital, a short jaunt from the Colorado street bridge in Pasadena where I took my fall and a great place to get a top quality neurosurgeon if you ever find yourself needing such a service. I remember talking to the CMC Dean of Students who suggested that we begin plans for deferring graduation for a semester and placing my classes on hiatus while I healed. I politely refused. Instead working with my very generous professors on a modified schedule and assignments while I recuperated.
And I wrote. That spring break instead of going off to a fun place to frolic, I continued on what was now an honestly obsessive quest. Fueled by a steady diet of my grandma's potato salad, I wrote all day into the early hours of the next. Then rinsed and repeat. I got my worst grades of colleges in all my classes other than my thesis which was my nominal excuse to write. I did not care. I was a man on a mission. I wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote some more. I took a break when theses were due. Then I continued writing.
I was actually surprised that I received an "A" at the end of the semester since I had not finished the outline that I set out for myself while in the hospital. There was still More-To-Be-Done. I had an internship in Washington DC that summer before beginning a Coro Fellowship, and I continued to work on the project during nights and weekends. I finished the manuscript that summer and set out to get my book published.
Stumbling at a false summit
Coro is a very unique experience, and at the time, the Los Angeles Coro Center had, uh, interesting leadership. They insisted that I get approval prior to publishing really anything. That was a hard pill to swallow considering I’d invested so much heart and soul into this book. At one point, the Coro Director accidentally sent me an email that provided some, uh, interesting insight into their internal deliberations:
"I think it is a ridiculous piece… I think Patrick has an illusion that this is somehow significant and that someone will want to publish it. How do you think that we should proceed?"
At the time, I was apoplectic and raged about Freedom of Speech and all manner of things. As I have grown older, however, I honestly just feel bad for the guy. He was a generous soul in many ways, though the part of him that decided to abuse his position of power and punch down in that situation reflected more on him than anything. He also wrote the following telling sentence:
"If you are in doubt, submit."
I am reminded of the following quote from Dune.
"The willow submits to the wind and prospers until one day it is many willows—a wall against the wind."
I read those words and smile looking back on the life that I have lived. Reflecting back I was fueled in part by unresolved personal trauma and a desire to right wrongs that had been done to my family. That's not a way to say "woe is me" so much as to acknowledge and recognize those invisible scars for what they are -- evidence of battles fought, whether lost or won. Many others have been through much worse and triumphed through adversity.
Pioneering spirit to persevere