It's often a thankless job. There's no reliable training program out there. No manual. But there are few things in life more rewarding than fatherhood.
I hope that you have or had a cool dad. I do. I'm fortunate enough to still have both of my parents, and I recognize that that's an achievement in this day and age. Herewith, I share some rather random memories of my father ... so far.
My earliest memory of dad's professional life was working for Dreisbach Refrigeration Company. He was a sales representative who primarily (as I recall) sold to grocery stores. I remember his boss, the founder of the company. Dad would leave early in the morning and be home for dinner every night, like clockwork, usually as I was finishing up my daily visit with "The Electric Company." He took me on a sales call one day, and bought me a comic book that Mom would never have approved. I wish I still had that comic book, "The Ghosts of Dr. Graves." Later, he'd weary of this type of selling, and he became a broker with Merrill Lynch, then E.F. Hutton. When Dad talked, people listened.
He instilled in me his love for baseball. Dad will follow professional football and basketball to a certain extent, but he really enjoyed baseball. I remember him taking me to Phillies games at the old Veterans Stadium, kind of a toilet bowl of a stadium, but Fantasyland to THIS kid. Driving home, we'd listen to an AC station on the radio, which invariably would play Harry Chapin's "Cat's in the Cradle" at some point during our hour-and-change commute, and I remember thinking, "Glad I don't have a Dad like that."
I remember him teaching me to throw a curve with a wiffle ball. We had many the afternoon scrimmage with that ball and bat, and softball was the one unit every year in P.E. that I could call my own. I couldn't run, do chin-ups, dodge a dodgeball, but I could hit a softball!
I also recall a birthday gift of possibly the worst game in history. It was called "The Cattlemen." It was a western-themed variant of "Risk," but it had a serious flaw in the land-grabbing mechanism ... whomever played first always won. We played two games and that was it. The next day, The Cattlemen was gone, and Dad brought home my very first APBA baseball game.
APBA is based in my hometown of Lancaster, PA, and is a baseball simulator played with cards and dice. Dad would regale me of stories of the APBA leagues that he played with his neighborhood friends growing up, and I fell in love with the gameplay of this simulation, and still have a set ready for play in my apartment.
Dad had fascinating television habits. He liked miniseries, a few sitcoms, but liked to turn his nose up at some of my viewing choices. The first glance he got of "Star Trek" garnered the query, "So where do they park the ship?" He watched with me once or twice and said, "This is okay for kids, I guess." Mom caught him one night, though, watching the series pilot late at night, and he grudgingly admitted that it was a good show. "Get Smart" is another one that surprised him, once he sat down and actually listened to the dialogue.
Probably the most amusing time I witnessed Dad with television was the Friday night when I walked into the living room to see him wincing with pain. "What's wrong, Dad," I asked. "I just don't get this show," he replied. "I know it's popular, but ... it's the worst thing I've ever seen. But I'm going to make it through the hour." That was his only hour ever spent with "The Dukes of Hazzard."
Not that he couldn't be a bit of a hellraiser himself. I recall an evening dinner in which he was downright FUMING over the speeding ticket he got in our robin's-egg blue VW bug. "All these kids in their fancy sportscars, tearing up and down the highway. And this jerk pulls over a middle-aged guy in a VW bug! I'm not the guy they're after!" "Were you speeding, Dad?" "Well ... yeah." I responded, "Then they got the right guy." Dad laughed loudest.
I learned a lot about MY driving skills from watching Dad. Sometimes you can learn from the worst examples.
When I was in eighth grade, we had one of our legendary Pennsylvania snowfalls. Dad was in a hurry to get to work after dropping me at school. So he cleared a hole in the windshield about the size of a half dollar, and raced to the high school. We hit the parking lot, missing a crossing pedestrian by about a foot and a half, and I made it to class. And I made it to seventh period. Driver's Ed. Where my teacher shared the story about how he was almost killed by a maniac that almost killed him this morning by only clearing a small patch in his windshield before barreling into the school parking lot. I covered my eyes, hoping he hadn't seen me in the passenger seat.
Dad enjoyed taking us to the movies downtown, and yes, we were there for the opening of "Star Wars." It was a great pleasure for my sister and me to treat HIM to one of the newer "Star Wars" films a few years ago. He was and still is a HUGE fan of movie musicals, from Nelson Eddy to "Mamma Mia." And don't get him started on "La La Land."
Religion. Dad was raised Catholic, but he didn't take to it right away. I recall going to church with my mother and sister while Dad stayed in bed on Sunday mornings. We bloom in our faith at different times, and once I became a teenager, I was given permission to stop going to our Episcopal church on Sunday mornings as well. I was born again in college, and Dad actually about a decade ago. Now he and Mom are regular attendees at St. Luke's in Lebanon, a church from my childhood, and he's an enthusiastic student at a weekly Bible study. He's finally retired, but I know that he's restless and not taking well to the all-weekend lifestyle.
We talk together every Monday night, this time of year, usually during a muted Phillies game. We talk baseball, politics, and anything else that amuses us. Sometimes, it's his latest idea for a new private business, everything from selling ad space on restaurant napkins to professional dog walking.
But if you were to ask me the best thing about my dad, I guess it has to be that he has always believed in me. In his heart of hearts, he's always believed I would wind up in sales, but he's never indicated that I was anything other than a rock star as a supporting cast member of WDUN, and he never misses a performance when I step on stage.
I'm not perfect as a Dad. None of us ever are. But if you want to focus on the most important part of being a father, make it that faith in your child. Tell them that you love them ... that you believe in them ... and that you're proud of them.
Thanks, Dad. And Happy Father's Day.
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