Today is a day we celebrate fathers. I am very privileged to know many fantastic men who take fatherhood seriously. In my very large extended family, I have brothers, brothers-in-law, cousins, nephews, uncles, and nephews-in-law that choose to share their wisdom, their intellect, their discipline, their humor, and their hearts to guide their children. I celebrate and thank them today.
I also celebrate my son, Matthew, father of two of my phenomenal grands. The love he has for his children and his niece is palpable. He is a great daddy – one who spends his limited free time giving his children great adventures and experiences; and sharing his passion for all things sports-related (and the FSU ‘Noles). He will tell you that he had a great role model in his own father – the one who worked hard to support the family; who attended his ball games and cheered him on; who tolerated the hours of trombone practice (Is it supposed to sound like that?); who proudly applauded at high school, college, and law school graduations; and who now is directing that same devotion to his grandchildren.
I have always considered myself one of the lucky ones. I had the good fortune to find a man who chose to be the father to my 2 older children. He fell in love with me and with my children. He “stepped” in and assumed this key role of father – not stepfather. And for this I forever will be grateful. Later on, after the birth of our youngest, I was able to witness his joy and wonder as he gazed down at a newborn – priceless. From that first day as a family, he has put his family first. What a guy! Sigh…
And now my thoughts and celebration turn to my own father, Daddy-o, Pops, the old man…the man who can charm and exasperate me (as I can him). So here’s to the man who…
…drew an engine and train cars on adding machine tape for his children to color when he was gone for a long weekend;
…entertained my baby brother by sticking a suction cup toy on his forehead resulting in a large circular bruise;
…introduced us to great literature by reading nursery rhymes, poetry, and excerpts of Gulliver’s Travels,
…taught us how to recite “The Goops”;
…made our Halloween masks (I fondly remember my brother’s One-eyed, One-horned
Flying Purple People Eater);
…sang “Go Tell Aunt Rhody The Old Grey Goose Is Dead” and “Oh My Darlin’ Clementine”, while playing a small guitar;
…loved us enough to say “no”;
…fixed up an old dilapidated mining house as a mountain retreat;
…stood with me during my School of Nursing pinning ceremony;
…shed tears while taking pictures (at my request) of my premie son who was fighting for life (he won the fight);
…taught me the ins and outs of running a small business; and
…loved my mother with his whole heart.
This is man I celebrate. This is the man I thank for guiding me, challenging me, and yes, for exasperating me.
For him I repost my recent blog/love letter.
MY LONG LAMENT: PROVERBS OF A DAUGHTER
As times change, so do relationships. One of the perks of living longer is having the time and inclination to let things go, to settle in, to accept people for who they are and not who you want them to be. I am finding myself doing this more and more…being more accepting of others, and opening up to what they can teach me.
On a recent cross-country trip to celebrate my father’s 88th, my dad sat me down to share some of his “notes” on my blogs. It turns out he is an avid reader of them and has been very encouraging. I don’t know why
this should surprise me, but it does. He has placed a link on his computer desktop to easily find my site. He proudly states that he has read every one, even the sex one! “What, do you think your mother and I knew nothing about sex?” Well, you must have, Dad, because our family of 9 children was an anomaly in the neighborhood…remember that family with ALL those kids?
Experience Is The Father Of Wisdom
My father and I became quite close (well, as close as one can get to a man who wears his curmudgeon mantle with pride) later on in my life. In a previous post, I introduced readers to my father, the man who taught me the ins and outs of business and tutored me on negotiation techniques when I was buying a company. Getting him involved was a spur of the moment decision. On the way out the door to meet with the existing owner of the business I was considering pursuing, I placed a long-distance call to my father and quickly explained what I was interested in doing. I was rather surprised when I did not receive a grunt and a “this is not the time for a venture like this, Mimi.” Instead, I received a long list of questions I needed to ask and instructions to call him with all the answers the next day. He was instantly connected! Once the deal was struck, I received another surprise…my father, with mother in tow, decided to move to Florida so that he could be available to assist me as needed. At that time I was 44…he was 70, and had just retired from his accounting firm.
The Wish Is Father To The Thought
Wow, great! Yet I had some concerns. Dad and I were never what I considered close. I found it difficult to involve him in conversation. I left that up to my husband who could easily discuss any topic with Dad. But me? Well, there were those 44 past years. When I am with him, I mentally return to my days as a gangly teenager who so desperately wanted his approval. As the third of his nine children, I was considered one of the older kids (as compared to the kids, and the younger kids). So, he was still learning what all these personalities mingling in his home were all about. I was also, affectionately I hope, known as the emotional one…the one who felt things deeply, cried at Pepsi commercials, and talked…a lot…I mean a lot…passionately. My dad however, has always been a stoic person. He does not like to show exuberant emotion, nor does he like to be a witness to the same.
I remember a time when I woke up crying (keep in mind I was an adult at the time, married with two children…but I am the emotional one). Alarmed, my husband asked what could possibly be wrong. I blubbered “I just realized that my father loves me, but I don’t think he likes me.” Ahhhh hormones, don’t you just love them?
It Is A Wise Child That Knows Its Own Father
Needless to say, my relationship with my father was, shall we call it…complicated. In one of my professional roles I completed a Myers Briggs scoring tool, you know…the kind that places one in particular personality boxes. My boxes came out to be Extravert, Intuitive, Feeling, and Perceiving. WELL THAT EXPLAINS EVERYTHING!!! I believe my father to be the polar opposite…Introvert, Sensing, Thinking, and Judging. No wonder we had trouble communicating. I was a talker and wanted to experience the world…he liked quiet and wanted to understand the world. I preferred a “big picture” viewpoint…he preferred the here and now with facts and figures. He would make decisions objectively; analyzing the evidence…I made decisions based on how it felt in my gut. He liked to live in a planned and orderly way…I liked to be more spontaneous and flexible.
But as we have lived longer, our relationship has changed. He has stood by me though the ups and downs of the business. I have been by his side through his few medical conditions and treatment; and together we cared for my mother during some dark days as she progressed in an illness that eventually resulted in them moving to Missouri for care that was more specific.
Like Father, Like Daughter
I think we are now more similar than dissimilar. I seem to have inherited the physical traits of his side of the family. We share common political views, albeit he is more strident. He is a wonderful writer, as my box of his communiqués (both physical and digital) to me can attest. So, what writing skills I may have, I come to them honestly. And, I have found throughout the years that my father is extremely emotional. His emotions spill out just when he does not want them. They emerge at children’s weddings, grandchildren’s and great-grandchildren’s recitals and exhibits, and at any event where his beloved wife was honored.
So…back to his “notes” about my blog. “I see your blog as a kind of long lament.” Interesting. “They need to be shorter, as people have short attention spans.” Agreed. “You need an editor.” Got one…big sis. With a slight sardonic smile he said, “I read them to see if I get mentioned.”
Well, this one is shorter. My sister/editor has pre-read and approved. And Dad merited a mention. Yet, I see these blogs not as a long lament of life in my aging years, but more as a long laud of what is becoming an exciting, wonderful, reflective time in my life, and I hope in the lives of others. And this particular blog…is more of a love letter.
I would love to hear your father/child stories.