The important stuff

My father passed away a year ago today. My son will be his first male grandchild of a male child - so he can carry on the family name. I know that's very traditional in an increasingly non-traditional world, but in this case I like the idea that my son has a little of my father in him.

I could write a book about all the things I learned from my dad, but among the most important lessons were how to be a father. When I was growing up my family was poor. I've no need to belabor the point, or share bleak tales of our poverty. Much to the contrary I'm proud of my background. My father worked long and hard to support our family, and he never stopped. And though at times we lacked food, or basic utilities, we *never* applied for welfare.

You see my dad lavished us with what mattered - attention, love, hope and wisdom. He was never discouraged so neither were we. He was never bitter or angry and so we were happy. I've been thinking about my childhood for years trying to distill the ingredients that made our family so content and durable. Don't get me wrong - we had our fair share of fights, and my dad had his ways of dealing with them. But he would teach his lessons without crushing our self-esteem, discipline us without tyranny.

My dad *couldn't* give us the toys or the clothes or the cars that we longed for growing up (though I know he wanted to). That's why poverty was such a gift. Strip away the material things and what's left is the important stuff. He took the time to teach us a lesson when we deserved it, and the time to play with us when we were good. He chastised us for making a bad decision but he had the strength and humility to listen to us when we argued back. Then he had the restraint to point out why are judgment was flawed and his was better, and the consequences of being wrong. I'm embarrassed now to recall some of the things I said to him in my youth. If someone talked to me that way my blood would boil over with the urge to hit something/someone. But I don't...because I learned better then that...from my dad.

I don't miss the things poverty deprived us of growing up - how can you miss what you never had? But I had a wise and fair and loving father growing up - and I do miss him dearly, now that he is gone. So I will gather up all the things he gave to me and pour them into my son, to continue that most important tradition of all - being a father.