Author’s Note: This piece originally ran here at RedState on Father’s Day five years ago. Sadly, my father lost his battle with Alzheimer’s in January of 2020. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss my Dad or feel gratitude for the lessons he taught me and the values he instilled in me. Wishing a Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there — thank you for all that you do.
I wrote this for my Dad on Father’s Day six years ago:
Earlier today, a friend suggested I be sure to let my Dad know how much of an influence he’s had on me. My immediate reaction was one of, “Well, duh!” But then I realized this is not something I do nearly often enough. My Dad’s not the sort of guy who’s particularly comfortable with the expression of emotions — especially not the mushy sort. My Dad, on the other hand, isn’t comfortable with me expressing my feelings. You can find more information here him. And it’s kind of a shame. My Dad is truly one of my best friends.
He didn’t necessarily have what I’d refer to as an easy childhood, (though if I were to bring that up to him, he’d likely dismiss it.) He did well at school and continued his education with law school. After this, he was sent to the Army for a two-year stint. He graduated from law school and married my mom. All this happened in a matter of two weeks, which was July 1956. He supported my mom and the rest of our family every day.
My childhood memories of Dad are filled with silly songs and rhymes that he sang to me. I was always lifted off the curb by him. Who happily put my stuffed skunk (“Skunkie” — go figure) on the steering wheel of his car and let him “drive”. I was taken along by him to place campaign signs for several political candidates. He also instilled in us a love of politics early.
As I became a very snotty teenager, my relationship with Dad became quite strained. Dad was not a good person to have around. I’m sure I didn’t grow up to be a happy, healthy teenager. I remember feeling confused about how I should interact with him once I stopped laughing at his silly jokes. He was a great dad and he tolerated me through my teenage years without me being spoiled. In fact, I even worked in his office that summer. My friends, all of whom were now 16 and employed. You might think that stint is what inspired my later decision to become a lawyer myself, but mostly, I answered the phones and read romance novels that summer, so I can’t rightly say that it was.
There’s no denying, however, that his career choice influenced my own. I don’t know that I consciously thought of it that way when I chose to follow in his footsteps. It is something I am certain of. He is a man I can be proud of. He’s worked hard all his life. He’s been a good husband to my Mom. He’s been a die hard Tiger fan and alum. He’s always been active in politics and, though our philosophies no longer align, I greatly respect his dedication to his beliefs. He’s not only attended the same church for almost 50 years, he’s given countless hours of his time to it, serving in multiple capacities. He’s turning 78 in a month and still goes out for a 3 mile jog (or, as he calls it, “chog”) on a regular basis.
One thing that’s meant so much to me over the years is how very many times when I’ve encountered someone who knows my Dad, the first thing they’ve said is, “He is the nicest man.” It’s true. My Dad Is nice. He’s kind. He’s a kind man A gentleman. He loves me, even though it is not something he says often or well. It doesn’t matter if he was there to assist me in finding work, picking up my child on short notice, or helping with the lawnmower. I’m sure that there are times he doesn’t quite know what to make of me, but he never wavers in his support of me. He is a wonderful father.
We love you Dad. Happy Father’s Day.
It’s all still true except for the fact that Dad is approaching 84. There have been some challenges health-wise in the intervening years – a couple spills, a pacemaker, the early stages of Alzheimer’s – and he doesn’t go out for his “chogs” anymore, but Dad’s still shuffling along and I’m happy to get to celebrate Father’s Day with him today.
There’s a song that always reminds me of him, even though the particulars of the story differ from ours:
Thanks for all the great music and the stories from the road.
You were so kind to allow me time for my freedom.
You have been so kind and supportive when it was tough.
And papa, I don’t think I said I love you near enough
For my Dad and me, it wasn’t music — though his mother was an accomplished pianist and his grandfather, a cellist, Dad’s musical showcasing generally consisted of singing while in the shower. Loudly. It wasn’t even the law, though we obviously have that in common.
It was, oddly enough. Politics. It was mentioned in an earlier article. However, my first memories of Dad are based on his involvement with politics and campaigning. It’s funny, politics are even part of my life. He was returning home from Chicago’s Democratic Convention in 1968 and had to transport my mother to the hospital. I recall being maybe 3 years old and attending a lunch with Senator Stuart Symington, only in my little-kid mind, I conflated “Symington” with “Washington,” and so, for a long time, was convinced I’d dined with the father of our country. Dad’s law school roommate was Congressman Ike Skelton, who was kind enough when we visited DC in the summer of 1982 to take me down onto the floor of the House with him and cast a vote for him. I don’t recall a single election growing up when we didn’t have someone’s campaign signs in our yard. Point being, my Dad’s interest and participation in the political world instilled in me a love and appreciation of it, as well. It’s the primary reason I majored in political science, and why I continue to follow politics so closely today, even when it’s beyond frustrating.
So why bring it up in this Father’s Day tribute? Well, first, as noted above, for my Dad and me, politics has been our “thing.” Second, and more importantly, my Dad is one of the primary reasons I’m able to write a piece like Otherization Nation and Know, despite significant pushback from those who are jaded and/or pugnacious, that hating people for their politics isn’t the answer.
My dad is a staunch Democrat. He was my best friend for 60 years. A diehard Republican. They are a staunch Republican. Yet, they go to dinner almost every Saturday with their wives, have been bridge partners or opponents for many years and celebrate numerous holidays together. They may not have always appreciated one another’s political views, but they didn’t let that overshadow their friendship. Also, my maternal grandmother was Republican. This did not affect my Dad’s support and love for her. It also didn’t diminish their fondness of him.
My political views are obviously quite different from my Dad’s (and most of my family’s.) But, these are my core values: I love country and appreciate the principles it was built on, devotion to my family, Protestant work ethic. Compassion for others, loving God, being a good neighbor, helping people in need, kindness, respecting other people (I try but sometimes fall short), fighting for what you believe. Both he and I aren’t alone. These values are held by millions of people, regardless their political affiliation. They are not shared by everyone. No. But we’ve seemingly forgotten how to look for those values we do share in those who play for the opposite “team.” My Dad is a constant reminder to me of the importance of doing so. Hopefully, he realizes he’s taught his daughter well.
The band leader is getting tired, and his eyes are becoming more aged.
His blood is all over my instrument, and my song is his.
It has been an unsuccessful attempt to be like the man.
I’m just a living legacy to the leader of the band
To the leader of the group, I’m a living testament
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