ABSTRACT
The author analyst was a generation younger than his father, but like him, a fairly traditional Freudian. Trying to conduct a more or less 'classical' analysis, he tended to be nondirective. Occasionally he would hold out some withered flower from the sparse bouquet of his childhood memories. Another problem was that despite analytic theory that stipulates that the patient's significant financial sacrifice for therapy should goad him or she to terminate sooner rather than later because when he started treatment he wasn't working his father paid. In the analytic hierarchy, psychotherapy patients were Cub Scouts rather than Marines; or, to flip the coin, more or less second-class citizens. This tended to make me increasingly critical of the way his father had been, on the one hand, too rigid about any overlap between his professional and personal lives, while on the other, he was also unable to separate these lives and leave his analytic manner at work.
