Pre-Father's Day Post

My dad with my brother and sister in 1963

If only I could have been a perfect dad. Imagine all of the wonderful accolades that I would receive from my family and my community and even the media. There might even be books written about my life and people would be requesting that I write a book sharing my secret to raising children and being a good dad. But I am not perfect. Far from it, in fact.

Any man that becomes a dad will experience the same thing. You will be amazed that someone as smart as you could possible say something as dumb as what you just said to your daughter. You will regret many things that you did and things you failed to do. There will be days when you will feel as though you have ruined your son's life. And if not, he will probably be more than happy to tell you that you have ruined his life.

No, father's are not perfect, but, in a day when so many children have absentee dads, those fathers who stay the course and put in the effort regardless of their mistakes, mishaps, missteps, and misguided good intentions deserve to be celebrated and lauded.

It is amazing how often times only one small thing can remind you of your dad. Maybe it is a story or a picture you have of him in your mind. Even smells and sounds can remind you of your dad: the smell of saw dust, the sound of a hammer, the smell of Old Spice, or the sound of an engine.

When I think of my father, I remember the day our family stood on a dock at the Little Creek Naval Amphibious Base in Norfolk, VA. The sound the water made as it splashed against the dock. The smells that the breeze carried from the water. The sight of his destroyer slowly being maneuvered into place as men standing in uniforms lined the decks waving at their loved ones. The sounds of the boatswain’s whistle blowing pipe down. The excitement when we saw and heard my dad walking down that metal gangplank to come ashore.

My story is more about the events that led up to seeing my dad. These events encompass who he was to us: a brave man who volunteered to serve his country, defend freedom, and fight in two wars to help keep democracy safe. Because of this, he was not home very often during my early childhood years. That is why this memory carries such significance. That particular day that comes to my mind was at the end of the Vietnam war when he came home for good.

My father was a naval officer through and through. He was strict and liked to bark orders. His first action when he would come home from a tour of duty was to take his two boys to the barber to get our 2 or 3-inch long hair cut into a more respectable crewcut. He would soon discover the trouble that we got into while he was away and would punish us for the way we treated his wife while he was gone.

I remember a punishment that he gave once that had to come right out of the Navy Training Manual...

My cousin was visiting and did something that warranted punishment. My dad handed him a shovel and told him to dig a hole in this spot of the yard and carry the dirt over to this spot about 10 feet away. After a decent sized hole was dug, my dad told him to go get the dirt and fill the hole. We never had a lack of chores around the house when my dad was home.

Arguing with my dad, complaining to my dad, and mouthing-off to my dad all came with swift return fire. You did not want to be on the receiving end of the Navy's relentless attacks. It took years after he retired for the Navy sea blood to wash out of his veins, but he did begin to mellow.

I was about 18 when my dad woke me up one morning and told me to get ready to go with him. As he directed me where to steer the car, I asked, "What are we doing?" He told me we were going to get a kitten for my niece because her dad didn't want to have one at his house. I couldn't believe my ears. I mean, this was the man who was more likely to kick a cat than to feed one. But if his granddaughter wanted a kitten, he was going to get her one...and let it stay at his house. Outside of course.

Dads are not perfect. Neither are children. I have a friend who wanted a way to skip parents and children so we would only have grandparents and grandchildren. I have heard it said that grandchildren are a reward for not killing your kids.

So here's to all the dads who will make a mess of things, but we stay behind to clean it up. Here's to the father's who will see their children run away screaming, "I hate you," but will be there when they run into their arms crying over a broken heart. Here's to those who give an example to their boys how to become men. Here's to daddy's that gladly miss a golf game so that they can watch their son's game. Here's to my dad and your dad and our future grandchildren's dads.