Fathers Day thoughts

I miss my dad. He was a character and a tease, and could sometimes embarrass us, but he was also a fairly wise man. He knew quite a bit about what made people tick. I wish I could hear whatever advice he'd have for me right now. I've taken a rather unusual and bold turn in my life, and I could use his reassurance that I'm not getting in over my head.

What was one thing we could always count on with Dad. He believed in us kids. Even when he may have wanted to throttle us, he still could see our potential. When the first of us boys (not me) got brave enough to run a business on their own he was right there to cheer him on and help in whatever way he could. And he had more help to offer than we probably ever would have given him credit for.

I suspect most dads are not truly appreciated by their children--at least not until those children get children of their own. Now that I'm "grown up" and being a father myself I'm starting to see and appreciate what my father went through. Then I only saw that my dad worked most of the day and was too tired to do much when he got home. Now I realize that he wasn't doing that because he wanted to. He had an obligation to provide for his family, and he did it. He took whatever jobs he had to in order to do it.

For my Dad there was no such thing as the "ideal career path". He worked a farm, taught school, drove truck, sold vacuums and appliances, restocked stores, cleaned laundromats and churches, repaired sewing machines, and managed PE equipment. While he undoubtedly enjoyed some jobs more than others, he never took the attitude of, "I'm a _____, that's what I'm good at, and that's the only work I'll do."  If there was a job he could do, he would do it.

He volunteered a lot, too. He was PTA president for awhile. He was a scout leader. He was a scout committee chairman for a long, long time. He organized church libraries. He organized church fundraisers. He visited the elderly--something we are all often assigned to do in our church, but he took it quite seriously. I don't think he ever turned down a request to serve.

My dad was forty before I was even born. That just occurred to me. I supposed I knew that, but I just realized the significance of it. He was not exactly young anymore, and he was putting in twelve hour days before coming home to spend a few more hours fixing sewing machines. No wonder he wasn't exactly the most playful of dads. But I don't recall suffering for attention.

Anyway, I guess the bottom line is that my dad was a good man who worked hard for and loved his family. Unfortunately I took my time having a family of my own, so I didn't come to understand him very well until he was already gone. There is so much I would like to tell him now that is just going to have to wait. And I'm going to have to muddle through these changes in my life without the benefit of his wisdom, even though I'm positive he would understand exactly what I'm going through and would know just what to say.

I miss you, Dad. I love you. I'm sorry I didn't say it often enough.

Invasion of the Spiders

We were awakened in the middle of the night by a blood-curdling scream from our youngest. My wife was evidently impressed by the speed I exhibited in getting from our bed to his. I just know that screams like that can never be good.

He was seeing spiders everywhere, but there were no spiders. We calmed him down and got him back to bed. That lasted all of two minutes. The spiders were back. They were everywhere. And they were invisible to me. It was as if he were hallucinating.

Our three-year-old is not typically afraid of much. This was something I'd have expected from his older brother, to be honest. But he was terrified. I did my best to comfort him, but after a little while it became obvious he wasn't going to calm down any time soon. Meanwhile we were keeping his brother awake.

I ended up taking him downstairs and reading him books, then snuggling on the couch for awhile. Eventually he started getting a little drowsy and talking about squishing spiders. I decided it might be time to try again. He willingly went upstairs and got into bed--after checking his pillow for spiders again. He didn't make another sound until breakfast time.

I'm pleased I was able to handle this situation patiently. Perhaps this was one case where I could empathize. I remember being scared at night sometimes as a kid. I know that it's not always rational. Still, as an adult who needs his sleep, it could have been easy to get upset. I'm glad I didn't. At least not with him. The cat who kept trying to slip into my lap and perform acupuncture no matter how many times I said no wasn't so lucky.

But I'm not sure whether to chalk the episode up as a victory or not. Should I be satisfied that I was eventually able to get him past his fear, or be concerned that I lack the presence to dispel the monsters with a word like some fathers seem to be capable of doing? I'm not sure.

All I know is that the hug and kiss he gave me before we headed upstairs to bed made it worth it. Being a daddy is not for the faint of heart, but it can certainly have its rewards.

Lest We Forget

Sippican Cottage has a post about his father, a WWII veteran, and his visit to see on of the few remaining B-24 bombers in which he flew 40 missions as ball-turret gunner.

My father was a ball gunner on a B-24J Liberator bomber in the Pacific during WW2. He rarely spoke about that. My father and his confreres considered themselves part of a thing greater than the sum of their parts in it --or so it seems to me -- and more or less did what was expected of them as a sort of unpleasant chore, kept themselves safe as much as was practicable, amused themselves when possible, and got back to being regular people as soon as they could.

The Greatest Generation is rapidly disappearing. We will have lost something irreplaceable when they're gone. The represent something nearly gone from our nation, something we will miss dearly once we realize what we've lost.