Father's Day 2015

It's Sunday morning and I'm sitting on the front porch sipping a warm cup of coffee and typing on my laptop. The day is new the air is crisp and clear.  The sun is creeping around the corner of the house and I feel  its warmth on my shoulders like the arm of a old friend.  It is Father's Day and, as I sit here enjoying the newness of the day and the wonder of the morning, I'm counting my blessings; considering how fortunate a man, a father, I am. Of course, my thoughts turn to the man who taught me to be a father.  I often consider how my dad shaped my life.  Since it is a day meant to honor our fathers, I am finally going to write some of my thoughts down; thoughts that have occurred to me many times but have never reach that part of my brain that allows me to give them a voice; to expose them to the world; to share them with my dad.

If my dad reads this, and I have every expectation he will, he will be surprised and a little embarrassed. He is a humble man. That is his way and I respect him for it. It is my hope that, in his quiet personal reflection, what I have written warms his heart.  I hope that deep within his spirit, he acknowledges this as validation of his impact on at my life, and by extension, the lives of my children.  Of course Dad does not seek validation, but as a son it is my duty and honor to give it, unbidden and with love. Our time on this earth is too short and unpredictable to leave things, important things, unacknowledged.

Quite simply, I am proud of my father. I am thankful that he is who he is and that he raised me in the way that formed the foundation of the man I am today.  Many people are aware of his story, the way he worked his way through college and law school while working full time to provide for our family.  It is an impressive story and no doubt if he had not done what he set out to do, my life would have been very different.  I learned a lot simply witnessing the events, and playing my bit part in that process, but it was only one of of many ways my sense of fatherhood was influenced.  I cannot possibly describe the entire breadth of Dad's influence on me. That would fill a lengthy novel. So when I really tried to understand what it was about my dad that most affected me; what particular nuance of our relationship was most influential, I came up with a recurring thought that isn't what I expected but upon close inspection is absolutely the case.

 Throughout my life I have had the security of knowing my dad had my back.  Regardless how busy he was or what else was going on, I have never doubted, even remotely, that my dad would do everything in his power to get me out of a jam.  I don't know why I knew it.  To my recollection, he's never taken me aside and said "Son, I'll always be there to get you out of a jam."  I believe that I came to the realization by just watching him live his life and be a reliable husband and father in so many other ways.  It must be that because he was there for me, my mother, brothers and sister in so many little things that he gave me confidence in that he would be there for the big ones.  I remember one time in particular when I planned to rent a car to get back to college after the summer.  I discovered that no one would rent a car to someone under the age of 25.  So Dad drove over to the airport and rented car, gave me the keys and trusted me with the responsibility of getting to school (an 11 hour drive) and returning the car to the rental car company in one piece.  He did this without fanfare, lectures or admonitions but certainly with a prayer or two.  I think he viewed it as just a simple way to solve a problem.  I viewed it as a life saving accommodation. This is just one instance of many I could relate. Over the years, this certainty of support gave me the courage to chase after my dreams; to jump into life with both feet because I knew there was a man, watching quietly and carefully, ready with advice and standing by with a life jacket if I needed it.  This is, in my opinion, the job description for a father.

Well, looking up from my keyboard, I now notice that the day is now in full bloom.  The occasional smell of my coffee wafting out of the mug as it slowly cools on the arm of my chair draws my attention back to the bright morning. I have a bit more time so I allow my mind to continue to wander.  As memories come to my consciousnesses and I sort though them, enjoying the reminiscing but also examining each to find one more that communicates something important.  

There is a particular Boy Scout camping trip  that comes to my mind, a trip I have thought of many times over the years.  To understand its impact on me, I'll point out that my parents raised 3 boys and a girl while Dad was working and going to school (adding a fourth son to the mix along the way).  This meant that one-on-one time with Dad was precious. So when I was perhaps eight or nine years old, it was a big deal that Dad was coming along on the annual weekend canoe trip to Pine river with me and my brother Dan. This is the only trip I can recall him coming on and in retrospect I imagine there were many other things that were put aside for the weekend so he could join us. As I remember it, the weather was nice and the three of us traveled together in one canoe for the first day of the trip.  Dan and I took turns paddling and sitting in the middle (between occasional dumps into the water).  I don't remember why, but my brother decided not to join us on the the second day of canoeing.  This gave me several hours of time alone with my dad; time without a project to complete or a schedule to be met.  I don't remember any of the conversation I'm sure we had.  I remember very little of specifics of that time in the canoe other than flipping over at one point and Dad finding $40 in a pocket of a shirt at the bottom of the river.  I do, however, remember with some clarity how I felt. I was connected with my dad.

Here is where words fail me.  I cannot transfer the depth and importance of the feelings of security and connectedness into language.  Communicating the feeling in words is about as easy as holding this morning's sunlight in my hand.  Thankfully, I can say that the feelings survive to this day, some four decades later.  I hope I have made that connection and provided that security to my son and my daughters in some way.  I hope that I have replicated the best examples of fatherhood my dad demonstrated to me. And, most importantly, I want to make sure that this day does not go by without me telling my dad how much I love and admire him.

 Happy Father's Day Dad. 

Rainy Night

It is a late on a warm, early summer evening. After a stuffy,  humid day the rain has arrived, cooling and clearing the night air.  I sit in bed exhausted after a long day. The sound of the rain outside is like a sedative that adds weight to my already heavy eyelids. I feel the urge to write something. I'm not exactly sure why, but I pick up my tablet and begin jotting notes. Like a car running out of fuel, my brain engages then disengages on seemingly random intervals. Refocusing I see partial sentences on the page, disconnected thoughts, nouns and verbs standing alone and isolated from any relevant context but connect in some way that I just don't have the energy to perceive.

The siren call to sleep is echoing in my ears. Consciousness is retreating and along with it the worries of the day. The faint breeze from the fan caresses me face and arms, carrying away the anxiety and stress.  I am offline.  Thoughts are mingled, disconnected and fleeting as the tide of slumber washes over me in gentle waves.   My soul is at peace. The rain continues its patter. The world retreats in slow, measures steps. I succumb to the rich comfort of sleep, thankful for the gift.