esrosedotblog

DAD'S DAYRevised Sunday morning-twice.

I want to get my licks in early. Before I sit back and wait for my kids to call me!

It will be my Dad I will be thinking of tomorrow. Well, a little about myself. Being a dad is a pretty good thing too.

My father and I got 'over it' before he passed 17 years ago and with some time to spare! A lot of sons don't get to do that.

I was with him as near the end as I could get. I was able to tell him it was OK to let go.

I focus on the end because it created a space where freedom arises. That freedom allows me to live with all of it; the good times and the bad.

I would hate to say that I 'forgive' my father for anything. I know he would feel the same. We both did what we had to do and sometimes it rubbed the other harder than we either would have liked. But, that is life and living isn't it?

Now, I can remember the times he tried to get me to go fishing with him and like it and not wince.

I can remember the fights about working; where and how. He had been a caddy so why wasn't it good enough for me?

I ended up working for him for five years. It was a good experience for both of us. We finally got to understand that, while we were different, we could meet in the middle and do very well together there.

Then, there was the thing about being gay. That took a long time. I remember when he met John for the first time. Somehow they connected as Navy men and within an hour were poring over my dad's WWII photos. They became friends.

Years later, he told me that when it came down to it, he was pleased to see that I was happy. A nice resolution. He didn't need to be convinced. He had his own yardstick on the value of things.

Stuff like that. If there was any lingering 'stuff', it has been unloaded long ago.

I wanted him to be different too. Not so rough and tough. I didn't like that he went off to war when he didn't really have to. He was too old. He later made amends to me about that.

I more than accepted.

He told me when he was in Boston and I had taken him to the place my mom and I used to stay when we visited him between North Atlantic crossings. He was a radar man on a destroyer escort; a tin can.

I laughed and told him that if he hadn't been in the Navy I would never have gone to Boston where I lived most of my life. He gave me the gift of my very own city.

There are a lot of men who may consider themselves self-made; an image that lacks some humility. My dad; he was self made.

He never got beyond 8th grade in school. He had a hard life. And he never let those circumstances get him down. He ended up on the local school board for a number of years and had a lot of success in his just barely white-collar job as a food store manager. But beyond that, he had wisdom beyond what one can get from school.

Yeh, we can smirk about the 'school of life' but it is there. It is real. It beats a lot of other educational institutions for practicality.

You can attend the 'school of life' or skip. Your own risk. My dad attended and learned and became a good and wise man as a result.

Most of all, what I am most grateful for, is that my dad taught me how to be a father.

What a gift. I don't know how well it all turned out on the other side. I know some of it and I am pleased. I never felt a lack for a model or a power of example when it came my turn to be a dad.

I used to be annoyed at being a 'junior'. Today I am proud to have the same name as my father. It helps me remember him and feel the love we had together.