We love to celebrate in America. We have the opportunity to celebrate well over 100 people or things throughout the year. Everything from New Year’s Day to New Year’s Eve. The second Sunday in May we celebrate mothers. The third Sunday in June we celebrate fathers. We have days for grandparents, mother-in-laws, sweethearts and pets. Is it overkill? Probably. At the same time, if bringing focus to an event, person or thing helps raise awareness and shine a light on it, maybe that’s not so bad either.
Earlier this month I received a touching text from my son on Father’s Day. It helped me reflect on my own father. My dad worked for 50 years. He’s been retired for 27. He was the main bread-winner helping to raise five kids. He was consistent, solid, dependable and hard-working at his profession. Despite his leadership roles throughout his career, I’d classify him as an introvert.
He was usually available to play catch after work, but I don’t remember him being in the bleachers during sporting events. Mostly because he was working. When I was a teenager, golf became the sport that connected us. Despite his current physical condition, that connection remains today.
We didn’t have deep discussions on world events, politics, religion or issues of the day, like civil rights. My most vivid memories of my dad revolved around how he handled his tough times and adversity.
The first memory was when he lost his job after more than two decades and numerous awards. We had returned from a little league game where my team had lost by a large margin. My mom was in the kitchen crying and my dad was in the shower singing. I said to my mom, “Why are you crying, we have lost by worst scores than tonight.” At that remark she burst into sobs and told me about my dad’s debacle. The fact that my dad was singing in the shower gave me comfort. His resolve proved correct as he was employed quickly after we enjoyed a vacation to Texas.
Another strong memory occurred following the death of his father. I had been with my grandfather a few days before he passed. I was alone with him and he wanted some whiskey to help with his cough. I called my dad and he calmly said, “Give him whatever he wants.”
A few days later my dad was called to his parents home as his dad passed away about 4 a.m. As the sun was coming up, I drove my mom to her in-law’s home. The black hearse was backed into the driveway. It was Halloween morning and the macabre scene was not lost on my senses. An hour later I was about to head for school when my dad returned home. Once again he got in the shower and got ready for his day. No words were spoken and no tears fell. I didn’t take his lack of emotion as a negative. I took it as an enormous strength.
By now, you may be wondering why I’m sharing these memories of my dad. I’m doing so for several reasons. I’m not like my dad. That’s not a good or bad thing. We are two different people and we always have been. We moved several times as I was growing up. Some might be upset or have resentment to attending six different grade schools. However, I believe that shaped me as much as anything. I was forced to make friends and be a joiner.
I don’t regret not having deep conversations. I learned as much by watching him. Observing how he didn’t judge others. Instead he lifted people up and tried to understand and see the best in them. He has always loved to laugh and I’m grateful to say that trait has rubbed off on me.
We don’t see eye-to-eye on everything. That makes me very pleased as well. I wouldn’t want to be exactly like him and he is likely glad I’m my own man.
My son and I are not the same either. Like me, he is his own man. He is intelligent, humble, a tireless worker, creative and his attention to detail is second to none. I have told him he has been successful despite the 18 years he spent with me.
It seems to me a father and a son can be a microcosm of any relationship. You might look like someone, but that may be where the similarities end. And if the similarities are few in any relationship then you must figure out how to make that relationship fruitful and successful. One must be able to do as my dad has done, not judge, but find the goodness in people.
Finding what we agree on instead of what divides us is something the world needs to do. Cutting through the weeds to get to the fruit is challenging, but worth the effort.
I have a very dear friend whose pigmentation is different from mine. His upbringing and career were starkly different from mine. We don’t think alike on every ideology and issue. But the respect and admiration we have for one another makes our relationship rich and fulfilling. I’m blessed to have this relationship.
I’m also blessed to still have relationships with my father and son. Not everyone is as fortunate as I am when it comes to having a legacy and watching it grow despite distance and differences in our lives.
Until next time…