Ode to Dad's everywhere.

Another Father's Day is upon us.
My own Dad left us over 33 years ago.
I am now almost a year older than he was when he slipped out of our lives and into the promised life to come.

Last year was a tough year for me, even though I swore to myself that I would not focus on that.
My 55th came and went anyway.
We all have our appointed time, and nothing we do will change that.
I also had to face the fact that I was no longer a young buck.
Nothing major, but in general I simply have not felt great for almost a year now.
Other than the Arthritis I am dealing with, everything else seems to be fine, including my cardiovascular health.

So I am fortunate. Simply getting older.
Adjusting to that fact is something all Dad's have to face up to.
I can't work in the yard all day like I used to without paying the price.
So I now spend money on something I vowed I would never do.
Someone else mows my yard and trims every two weeks.
I've also learned that I can live with it looking a bit shaggy every other weekend.
That would have driven me to break out the mower just a couple of years ago and waste most of my Saturday in the Southern summer heat.
Now I sit on the front porch and have a nice cold drink, or share a glass of wine with the Queen.
Perhaps I am getting a bit smarter after all!
To be a wise Grandpa someday, I have to develop some smarts!
Although when they are old enough I will insist my grandkids (girls too, I'm all for true feminism!) to get their heinies out there and mow the yard for their Dad without being fussed at. And to help Mom around the house.
Something that he never did, actually.
Most of our head butting contests revolved around him doing the little bit around the place we asked him to.
The same strength of character and drive that makes him the fine young man he is today, also made him a stubborn pain in the neck at times in his teen years.
He would purposely wait until almost dark before finally caving and doing the yard.
Many interesting mowing patterns resulted.
I think he would have had a great career in mowing ball parks, it would have been easy to adapt to mowing the team logos onto the field.

Of course, I had many memorable moments driving my own father to the brink of insanity.
One that still sticks in my mind is him 'teaching' me how to put a new brake master cylinder on my car, and then how to 'bleed' the air out of the brake system.
I was in the car, my only duty to pump the brake pedal when he told me to, while he was under the car with a wrench on the nipple, which bled excess air out of each wheel in turn.
Timing is critical on this, and given my propensity to daydream when I was bored, disaster was sure to happen.
I must have responded with less alacrity than he wanted, and when he screamed at me to "wake up, and pump the d*** pedal" I did so, vigorously.
The result was a face full of brake fluid for the old man, who had let the wrench slip off the nipple while yelling at me.
He came rolling out from under the car, temporarily blind, and regaling me with his impressive country boy/WWII vet command of profanity.
While thrashing around the carport, trying to find a rag to wipe the fluid from his face, he kicked the tray from the toolbox, scattering small fittings and tools all over the yard.

At this point, I was trying not to laugh. Not very successfully at that.
He finally got most of it wiped away, and after going inside to wash his face, returned, somewhat sheepishly.
"Don't just sit there like a knot on a log, come out here and help me find all of these Cotton'Pickin' tools!"

I know all of us who were fortunate enough to have Dad's who actually raised us have similar stories.
And all of us repeat phrases and actions to our own kids we swore we would never use.
The President has recently been talking a lot about Fatherhood.
Sadly, it is needed in this day and time.
Half of all homes are second marriages, and many women raise their children without the fathers. These 'men' care more about themselves than the children they help bring into the world.

But there is no substitute for being there, 24/7 for your own children.
It is a sacrifice for both parents.
That's what being a Father is.
Dependability. Not flash, not Cliff Huxtable or Pa Walton.
Just being there for them.
Sometimes you cannot be their friends when they need a good swift kick in the Gluteous.
But ultimately, you will be.

I now simply 'hang out' with my son.
We have conversations about just about everything. He listens to me again, without rolling his eyes with expressions of bewilderment.
I admire and respect him too.

It was worth all of the time, money and sometimes grief that being a Dad brings.

Thank you to my Dad, to his Dad, and to my nephews Luke, Martin and Brandon, who are fine fathers in their own right. They had good Dad's who were there for them.

And I know my own boy will also be a fine Father when his time comes.

Grill them a steak today, and then just leave them alone to watch golf, read that book they never have time to read, or better yet sit there and ask them about their father.

Happy Father's Day!