Father's Day

In my family, there was never a lot of emphasis put on Mother's Day or Father's Day.

"It's just a ploy by Hallmark," my father would tell me. He hated wasted money. Or, more bluntly, he was cheap. He also wasn't very sentimental. He refused to ever get a Mother's Day card for my Mom.

"You're not my mother," he would quip. I have to admit, he did have a point. She would get him a Father's Day card, though. It may have been wasted on him, but she did it anyway.

We didn't do sappy cards in my house. Birthdays and other special occassions were opportunities for humor, not sentiment. That's how my Dad related, with laughter. Even something as simple as a birthday card was a chance for a laugh. But, even the funniest card wouldn't be enough. The effort had to be made to add something to it, to make it even more amusing. As impersonal as a card could be, my Dad taught us how to make it personal with a bit of effort. You didn't get away with just signing a card in my house. Oh no. A card was a performance.

So there was a lot of laughter in my house, thanks mostly to my Dad. In many ways, I am my father's son. He was the penultimate salesman of the old school. He could wine and dine clients and vendors with the a gentle charm and good wit that just made everyone enjoy his company. He worked hard and honestly, and treated people right. I learned a lot from him.

He died of pancreatic cancer in 1986, the year I was supposed to graduate from high school. My father's upfront doctor confronted my parents with the news that death was immenient and unstopable. Exceptional measures would mostly like fail and worsen what time he did have left. My folks taught me the true meaning of bravery. My father left the hospital, and came home to die, with dignity and grace, at home, with his family.

He would joke with the minister who came about arrangements for after his death (even though he was agnostic), he would joke with the nurse who came to check on him, and he smiled and laughed up to the very end. For a man given a bum deal, there's wasn't any bitterness.

It was a noble exit from a humble man. I learned a great deal from him, and miss him very much. He never saw the progress of my career. He never met the women I loved. He never saw me marry. He never saw me divorce. There are so many things I wish I could have shared with him, and talked to him about. I think about him more and more as I grow older.

Here's to you, Dad. To the man who taught me to follow what's in my heart, I am thankful to have had such a great Dad, and you still make my smile to this day.
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