A Ride With Dad

I intended to make my first blog entry be an introduction, a vision of what I wanted the blog to be about, lay down some groundwork, etc. However, that changed when I had the opportunity to spend some time with my parents over the weekend. I have to get something off my chest, so the introductory blog will wait.

This weekend, I had the opportunity to spend some time with my mother, father, and brother while we drove to southern Indiana to attend the 80th birthday party for my Aunt Carolyn. My dad and I sat in the front seat driving down and coming home.

There is just something about my dad’s generation, something I respect so much. I suppose everyone is somewhat partial to their own generation and the memories it creates, but not me. When I compare my own days of youth, with those of my dad’s, I’m simply humbled. It’s not so much because it was the WW II generation (though that in and of itself is worthy of much admiration), but because it’s, for lack of a better way of putting it, the overall selfless worth ethic so many people my dad’s age had.

My dad had worked about 4 jobs by the time he was 17, not including helping out around the farm. He shared this with me on the way back home after the birthday party when I could tell he was in a very sentimental mood. Some of the stories I’ve heard before, but I didn’t care; he could tell them to me everyday for all I care because I know someday I won’t have him and I will long for him to be here to tell me those stories again.

I enjoyed the conversation, though he did most of the talking. But, as much as I enjoyed it, there was one aspect of it that was sad and bewildering. My dad said the worst thing about being old (my dad will be 83 in June) was he feels like when he says something, especially in the way of offering advice, people tend to discount what he says due to his age and his lack of education. I believe he truly feels inadequate and viewed by some as useless; I believe he even used the word stupid. This comment bothered me greatly, especially when I have to admit I have probably done it in the past as well. Although unintentional and never going so far as to view him as useless or stupid, I fear I’ve “blown him off” before. I think every son or daughter goes through the “my dad is too old to get it, he doesn’t understand what it’s like to grow up in these times, etc.” stage. I don’t want to get off track, but since I’m 47 and have four kids, let me just say quickly, if you’re young and you feel this way, you’re wrong. I know this is true because I know how often I have been convinced my parents just didn’t understand only to find out later in life they were dead on correct.

I have always known my dad quit school his freshman year of high school. I had the understanding he did so because he was needed by my grandfather to help work the farm; however, this was only part of the truth. My dad wasn’t specific, but he said there was a day when someone or a group of people said something to him that made him feel dumb. He walked home that day and never returned to school again. He worked the farm and several other jobs before joining the Navy.

He didn’t say this to me directly, but to this day, I think my dad still feels inadequate, unneeded, and lacking intelligence. Some of it is from his inner feelings; some of it comes from personal experiences; some of it he told me about; none of which are necessary to go into.

Education is important, it’s vitally important, but it’s not a god, it doesn’t make us gods. I might also suggest, sometimes, it doesn’t even make us smart. Some of the most insecure, empty people I have ever known, spent years in higher education, have all the letters behind their names, yet couldn’t think or reason themselves out of a paper bag. They couldn’t feel or relate to people and their life experiences. Oh, they might be experts in their chosen profession, but in life, parenting, common social responsibilities, and interactions, they were extremely lacking in, dare I say it, “education.”

Don’t get confused by what I’m saying, education is very important, get as much of it as you can, but don’t let it grow into an arrogance that keeps you from growing and learning from those who society might view as a little “less smart” than you are.

In my opinion, my dad was educated. He was educated in ways many of us are not and I think it shows in the different generations. All too often I hear college kids talk about how much they expect to make after getting their degrees and the figure borders on the absurd, especially when you find out they have worked hardly a day in their lives and their parents have pretty much provided them everything. Now, I’m making general statements here, I know full well there are good, hard-working kids out there. But, I believe very few kids, including this writer (although not a kid), admit they have not had the same work ethic of their fathers.

I guess my dad has worked out things in his own mind the best he could. He just made the decision to grow up as best he could, work hard and provide for his family, which included a rock of a wife and four children. He tells one of my favorite stories that I kind of think might be the day he “became a man” of sorts. He was up early, out working on a tractor I believe. My grandfather came out and looked over his shoulder and began to say, “Did you make sure to do this, do that, etc.” Well, my dad had been doing this type of work for some time and he finally had had enough. He looked at my grandfather and said in effect, “Dad, I know what I’m doing. Why don’t you just get out of my way, go into town, and have breakfast with your buddies or something.” My grandfather paused, looked at my dad, and said, “You know son, I believe I will.” I think my dad became a man that day, and my grandfather, who was not an affectionate man at all, was telling my dad, son, you do in fact, know what you’re doing.

Now, I can go on and tell you of times my dad worked three jobs to support a wife and three kids, how he was so exhausted at times, he (thanks to a very understanding boss) had to take naps at one of those jobs when they weren’t busy because he was so exhausted from his other jobs. By the way, I don’t remember my dad ever complaining or pulling us aside and telling us we didn’t appreciate his efforts, even though back then, as kids, I doubt we did. He just kept doing what he knew to be the right thing to do.

My dad’s life has taught me to work hard and to never give up. It has taught me at any time, a man can change his ways and be a better man. My dad used to be just like his dad, very unaffectionate. He never allowed faith to have much of an influence in his life until he was in his 50s. Most people, by that time, seem set in their ways. I always admired his willingness to look in the mirror and make changes in his life despite his age. I admire that, because it’s so tough to change when you’re older and have been living a certain way. To this day, when I see him, there is now almost always a hug, and sometimes, an “I love you.” Oh, he isn’t perfect, not by a long shot. But he is my dad; I love him; I respect him, and I think he’s pretty darn smart.