Happy Father's Day...and What I Learned From My Dad

Father's Day seems late to me this year--so much so that I wrote and posted a Father's Day blog last week, only to have Sally quickly remind me that we weren't quite there yet.

I've written a bit about fatherhood here in this blog, which many of you may find odd given my lack of membership in the club (ever hear the expression "those who can't do, teach?"). And while my personal experience as a father is limited to those duties delegated to me by the Kitten (and Jimmy's mom), my credentials to comment upon the subject are in fact quite good, given that I learned about fatherhood from a master--my Dad. So in the spirit of the day, and in warm thanks and love to James A. (Jimmy Wires) McGrath, I'd like to spend a little time on "What I Learned From My Dad". Dad's very much alive, so where I use the past tense, it is only for style.

1. Balance. My Dad led an incredibly balanced life. He started a business from the ground up and built it into a going concern that fed, clothed and housed his own family and those of several other men. He had an active social life, with a huge circle of friends through the country club, his men's club (go Dad!), and the tavern where he ate his lunch. He was a father to six children and managed to be a big part of our very busy little lives. And he loved his wife, as I'll talk about in another entry. Point is, he had a lot of varied interests, and he indulged them all. Where I say I "learned" balance from my Dad--I'm actually fudging it. I watched balance, then failed to implement it in much of my own adult life. The older I grow, the more I admire the way he pulled it off, and the more I try to emulate him.

2. Love of wife. Even in a house of six frantic children, there was never any question of who came first in my Dad's life--his wife, my Mom. As I've said here before, when I asked him years ago how to be a good Dad, he said "love your wife". When I last wrote that, some correspondent wrote in to take issue with that, recounting wonderful walks he used to take with his Dad. I never responded to that entry, but it bothered me because I didn't write "love your wife, ignore your children". What I'm trying to get across here is that what he meant (and the lesson I've taken) is that if a man showers his children with love, affection, understanding and attention--yet fails to love and respect their mother--he will have failed in executing one of his most important jobs as a father. That is, providing an example to the next generation of how a loving couple works.

3. Be a man. Dad's a man's man and always has been. This fact was always on its most grand display on the golf course, which is where I got to see my Dad socialize up close with other men, talk smack with other men, and show deference and respect to older men. I spent countless mid-teen years carrying his golf bag around (for pay, mind you) listening to him and his buddies do their thing. Years later, when I was in a class for officers about to assume command of Navy ships, I remember sitting there one day listening to the chatter and realizing how much of it resembled the golf course banter I'd heard as a teenager. Pure smack talk. Loved it. But I also learned that it is OK to cry from my Dad. I'll never forget the first time I saw it--it was when HIS Dad died. I'd been carrying on manfully (or as manfully as a twelve year old can), but when Dad lost it, so did I. I was so sad, not necessarily for losing a Grandpa, but for my Dad. His tears came from his soul.

4. Face your demons. I led an alcohol fueled college life, then joined the biggest fraternity of them all in the US Navy, where my partying continued unabated. Along the way, I flamed out a marriage to a wonderful woman at least in part due to drinking. When I'd hit bottom and realized that I had to make a change, I went to talk to the guy I knew who had already given up drinking--my Dad. I told him that I wanted--no, I needed to stop drinking. I asked what I needed to do--should I go to AA? Do I need to see a doctor? Should I sign up for rehab? He just looked me in the eye and said, "just stop drinking". Now I realize that such advice might not work for everyone--but I think he knew it was all I needed. Sixteen years later, he was right.

There's a whole lot more, but I think you get the picture. So here's to you, Dad, on your special day! Enjoy it, and thank you.