Dad

I spent the first twenty years of my life trying as hard as I could to be as different my Dad as possible, and the past twenty years of my life trying as hard as I can to be half the man I know him to be.  Now, having a child makes me admire him all the more.

As Father's Day draws to a close (a Father's Day on which thanks to genius scheduling of the North Carolina DA's conference I got to spend too few precious moments with my wife and daughter) I thought it best to look back on my 40 year relationship with my Dad and how he still guides me, albeit unknowingly, through each day's challenges.

I don't know why, but in the earliest part of my life, my Dad and I had a somewhat difficult relationship.  Probably because we were more similar than either of us would like to admit.  Our family was close, but not overtly affectionate.  We didn't hug or kiss a lot; we didn't express emotions openly (except when we were arguing); we didn't say "I love you" to each other.  So, my father's affections were not quite as easy to notice to many, although I noticed them more and more over time.

My favorite times with my Dad were those times that he would take off from work and in what seemed like an odd thing to me, spend time with me doing something special.  The first time I remember this, it was taking me and some of my other siblings to the airport in Syracuse to see Snoopy and the Red Baron.  Now, I don't think this was necessarily something my Dad had planned, or something he necessarily wanted to do, but I saw on the noon news that the event was happening and probably cried and whined and stomped and screamed so much to my Mom that I think she demanded that Dad leave work and come home just to shut me up. 

But there were other times when it was definitely on purpose.  I remember going to the Everson Art Museum or Salt Museum.  There were day long trips to Cooperstown to visit the Baseball Hall of Fame, and then souvenir hunting afterward.  I didn't really get it at the time.  But looking back, it really means a lot to me that he thought it special enough to him to spend days which he knew were all too fleeting with his youngest child, even though I didn't understand why.

My Dad would often act the clown in family situations, using self-deprecation as a way to get laughs from his children and grandchildren.  He would joyfully play along with the Homer Simpson references or acting unaware when a joke was being played on him.  Many wouldn't understand why someone would do this, but I have a feeling that the laughs that he inspired made it more than worth his while.

One of the greatest qualities of my Dad was that he allowed me to fail and succeed on my own.  He would always challenge me to do my best, but would give me the freedom to make my own decisions about my life.  Sometimes my decisions made him proud and sometimes they would make him extremely disappointed, but although he would always be there to give advice, once the decision was made, he allowed me to stand by it for good or for bad.

I remember when I was in college dreading the conversation that I would have to have with my Dad telling him that I had changed my major from chemistry to international relations.  I always felt that my Dad had wanted me to go into science or engineering.  It was an easier way to earn a living and jobs were more in demand in these fields than in social sciences.  I was afraid that I had let my Dad down even though I knew I had to make the decision since I felt miserable in chemistry.  When I told him, I expected some sort of rebuke, but instead he smiled and said something to the effect of "Well, I always figured you'd go into something like that."  When I asked why he didn't tell me that earlier, he said simply that it was something that I needed to figure out for myself.

I never used to understand my Dad.  I didn't understand why he fell asleep at 7:30 in his recliner with the newspaper in his hand.  I didn't understand why sometimes he would forget to take me somewhere -- be it a piano lesson or a sports practice, or why sometimes he would forget to pick me up.  Now, with the experience of being a father to one child for two years, I understand how exhausting it can be to work full time, pick up the baby, come home, help take care of the baby and get that child ready for bed.  That's with one.  My Dad together with my Mom raised SEVEN of us.  Oh, yeah, and in addition to that full time job, he also was the only one in the family who drove so he had to take all of us everywhere and by the way, he was going to college at night so he could finish his college degree that he received in 1985.  So, where I used to make fun of him falling asleep everyday or forgetting things from time to time, now I think back and wonder how in the hell he did it all.

In the run-up to Father's Day this year I heard and read a lot of commentaries about what was the best advice your father gave you.  For me this is an easy one.  When I was 14 years old, in the Summer between my 8th grade year and my Freshman year in high school, my Dad and I went to a lot of Syracuse Chiefs baseball games.  I don't think we ever went to more games than we did that Summer.  It was a good year for the Chiefs and we followed the players closely.  We got to know all of the vendors selling food and drinks.  We had inside jokes about a lot of the goings on at the games.  It was a fun time for both of us. 

Late in the season, we went to a game after going to the State Fair that morning and afternoon.  I remember the late August evening with the coolness of the Fall creeping in.  My Dad turned to me and said "I hope that you really make the most of these next few years because they are going to go by fast."  I'm sure I nodded and said something like "Oh? OK."  And then went back to the game.

That was 26 years ago.  It was also yesterday.  Of course, I didn't pay attention and those years have flown by faster than I thought possible.  Maybe all of those baseball games, and trips to Museums and to Cooperstown were my Dad's way of trying to slow the clock down a little as he saw the days and years of his last child speeding past him faster than he could imagine.

I can't get back those days or years.  I can't turn back time and make more out of the experiences that I didn't cherish or take back the days I wished away.  But what I get out of my Dad's advice is that I pay as much attention to every day I spend with my daughter and I cherish every laugh, giggle, new experience she has as if it is made of pure gold.  Even the bad things, the cuts, the tantrums, the hurt feelings are treasures to be guarded at all cost.

I know that Rory is going to grow up and think her Dad is sometimes goofy and embarrassing.  There will be times that we argue and she will think in that moment that I'm the worst person in the world.  I also know that she's going to see the days of her life fly by at warp speed.  But, what she won't know is that I will be there paying attention to every moment, cherishing every second, paying close attention to every experience good and bad as I try to slow down the clock for both of us.

Happy Father's Day.