I was quite the rebellious teen growing up. I was bent on learning things the hard way. I lived and died on my mistakes. My father being the wise man he was, let me. It sounds counter intuitive doesn't it? After all, the job of a parent is to guide and teach isn't it? I think my father learned early on that the best way to guide me was with a soft touch and light hand. He gave me the freedom to be me while steering me only when I was seriously in any danger of blowing way off course.
My father was a serious golfer. He spent every possible weekend on the links. He wanted so badly for me to be a golfer but I never took to it. I would only start golfing later in life but that was more of a way to hang out with buddies and an expensive excuse to drink beer. Growing up I was more into the traditional sports; football, baseball, and basketball. Not ever seeing my father play and youthful machismo led me to believe that I was better than he was at all of the above. Not the case. One day while shooting hoops in the driveway my father pulls up after work. He stops and chats with my best friend and me then asks if we wanted to play a game of 21. The game is basically an everyone against everyone game, first player to 21 wins. Of course we said yes. My father then proceeds to hit shots from all over the court. He hits jumpers, layups, and even the old school hook shot. I was stunned. Never would I ever imagine my father being not only way better than us, he was way better than I gave him credit for.
Another time we were traveling and had a layover in an airport. I don't really remember which. To kill time we decided to explore the airport. We stumbled upon a game room that had video games and a pool table. My father asked if we wanted to play a game. I said yes, again thinking I could beat him. He racks and I crack. I made a shot on the break but missed my next shot. It was my father's turn. Holy Paul Newman. My dad ran the table. I seriously got hustled the Color of Money style. I never got another shot.
I got into a bit of trouble growing up. My father always told me, 'If you ever get picked up by the police I'm going to ask you one question. Did you do it? I expect an honest answer. If you did it, do your time. If you didn't, I'll come get you.' Sure enough I got picked up by the police one day. I stole a pair of shoes from a store. We had this store downtown that had all their shoes on a rack, no boxes. One day my friend and I decided that it would be simple to just walk in with old shoes and walk out with new ones straight off the rack. It was simple up until we walked out and a security guard chased us down. We got caught and were hauled off to the police station. Being minors we had to call our parents. I begged the police office not to call my dad and of course he did. True to his word, when we spoke he asked me the question. I told him the truth and he asked to speak to the officer. From the sounds of it he asked what the consequences where. The officer told him I would spend the weekend in jail, see the judge on Monday, and go from there. My father told the officer that he wouldn't pick me up. I had to suffer the consequences. I ended up spending 5 days total in juvenile detention and paying restitution. My buddy on the other hand made his call and his dad came to get him. Years later I'm an adult that's never been in trouble again. I have a wonderful job and a wonderful life. My friend? He's spent almost 90% of his post high school life locked up for everything from drugs to theft and even a home invasion charge. As much as I hated being left there by father, I love it in hindsight. I learned about consequences.
My father was a man of strong opinions. He had this booming voice. The two are just a couple of things that made him a great leader. My father was the head of various community groups during his life. His leadership style may not have always been popular but it was always in the best interest of the groups and his strong will overcame a lot of people's inability to see further than the tip of their noses. He had this great ability to not only see the forest for the trees but to see each and every tree and their potential. I call it seeing all the angles. He was a great thinker in that way. He pushed a lot of boundaries that resulted in great things. I see a lot of that in me. I see where I get this need to explore, feel, and touch just for the experience and learning opportunity.
My father was a very loving and caring man. He would do anything for you. You didn't even have to ask. If he saw you in need he would give before you could even ask. I'd like to think that there's some of that in me. I try to help people when I can. I try to help people even when I can't.
I know I started out this post saying my father and I weren't as close as I'd like, but looking at it maybe we were and I just didn't realize it. Maybe the years have taught me that I really did value our relationship I was just too close to see it. I know this now. I still talk to my dad, even if it's in my head. I still ask questions and look for guidance knowing that his hand will be just as light and soft in guiding me. I miss him everyday. It's hard to not tear up when I think about him.
So it's with a heavy heart that I write this post. I love you dad.
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