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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
Yes indeed! You nailed it Paul!
ReplyDelete😭😭😭 I love you so much dad!
ReplyDeleteI would love to share this with my family. I like every part of this. Thank you.
ReplyDeletePaul, 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.
ReplyDeleteBob, 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.
ReplyDelete