Sunday, June 25, 2023

Reflections on Father’s Day

I don’t need my kids to call on Father’s Day. I don’t need a Father’s Day present. I’m not saying I don’t want them to call, because it’s always pleasant to hear their voices, to find out what they are doing, to be able to tell them what I am doing, to just chat. It’s even better when they visit, because it’s more relaxing to converse in person. But we talk and visit throughout the year, whenever it’s convenient—and I’d be very disappointed if we didn’t maintain this regular contact.

Our family in Padova, Christmas 2001

But I don’t feel the need to have one special day of recognition. When I need a new wheelbarrow, hammer, box of chocolates or whatever, I go out and buy them myself. I don’t want my kids to waste time or money buying me something I don’t really want or need just to fulfill the requirements of an invented holiday.

Wine tasting with Lindsey
But that’s not to say that I don’t want something else from them, something that requires them to give me something every day. 365 days. No day off, even in a leap year. I want them to be good people. I want them to be content, and to live their lives in a way that makes me proud. Of course, they’ll have struggles; this is a normal part of living, but they will find ways to live with or overcome their difficulties.

Tea tasting with Randall
My own mom and dad passed away far too early—Mom when I was 25, Dad when I was 31. Mom was a teacher par excellence, and Dad was the leader of a thriving construction company. In my 30s and 40s, I achieved considerable success as a teacher, and it would have been extra rewarding if Mom could have witnessed this. I also developed a love for reading and writing from Mom. I credit her more than any other teacher for my writing abilities, as she would often sit with me and type up my handwritten English papers, showing me corrections that needed to be made, making suggestions on word choice and proposing suggestions on how I could add content that would clear up confusing aspects of my story lines. I sorely regret that she didn’t live long enough to see that I’ve published two books. In my 40s, I started my own asphalt maintenance company, much smaller than Dad’s but one which provided regular summer employment for all four of my children through their high school and college years. I essentially did the same things as Dad had done for most of his life: Bid for jobs, schedule them, procure equipment and supplies, do the work while supervising the crew. I think Dad would have  been proud of me, but he was no longer around to tell me that he was. Another regret.

Sweet Sandra Lyn
Fortunately, I’ve been around long enough that my kids don’t need to experience similar regrets—and I get to bask in the successes of my children and grandchildren, a deeply satisfying experience. Why is that? A parenthood article by Tim Lott in The Guardian speaks to that sense of satisfaction. Here are three paragraphs from his essay:

Apart from anything else, people who don’t have children are, according to numerous surveys, consistently happier. The moment you have children, you are burdened with worries and responsibilities for the rest of your life. You are only ever as happy as your unhappiest child.

So, what is the motivation? The answer to this, as far as I’m concerned, is pretty much: “Well, what else are you going to do?” For me, life isn’t the pursuit of happiness. Life is the pursuit of meaning.

It is partly in the difficulties that children bring with them that meaning resides – overcoming obstacles, achieving challenging goals, coping with crises. The energy of life comes from the negative side of it, as anyone who tells stories or writes dramas knows. An entirely happy story is not a story at all.

Suzye graduates from beauty school as both Valedictorian and Most Inspirational Student. Additional point of interest: Can you find Clara Jane Krebs somewhere in this photo?
Indeed, my life has not been all happiness, but for the most part, I have experienced substantial blessings in my childhood, career, my marriage and yes, my children. We went through occasional interpersonal and financial struggles, but by the grace of God, all our children are in solid, secure and stable careers. Each has a fantastic partner. Even all nine of my grandchildren are doing remarkably well. I am incredibly proud of each son, daughter, grandchild, son-in-law and daughter-in-law. This has been and is the most remarkable Father’s Day present I could ever wish for.


5 comments:

  1. Yes indeed! You nailed it Paul!

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  2. 😭😭😭 I love you so much dad!

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  3. I would love to share this with my family. I like every part of this. Thank you.

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  4. Paul, you are a gift of a human being. I remember the day your dad passed away. For some reason, I never thought about your age and didn't know you were only 31 at the time. I remember you called and told me, I think because we were working on something at school and you wanted me to know because there was always something that needed to be done. I was honored that, as a student, I could help you in some way. You were and are a gifted teacher who always worked very hard, inspiring people along the way. I appreciate both of your folks for giving you to the rest of us. Your mom may not have seen your successes as a teacher, but I bet she knew they were going to happen. And both of your folks did witness how great a human being they raised. That truth exists over whatever title you've adopted since.

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  5. Bob, you are also a gift to the world, so consistently kind and compassionate. I have such fond memories of the times we spent together at PHS. It was a formative time for both of us. I am proud to claim you as a friend.

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