My Dad
My Dad is pretty great. I already knew that. But it’s quite something else to hear it from a roomful of people as well as voices from the East to West Coast, people who have worked with him for years, people who knew my grandfather and compare him favourably to him. It’s quite something to hear the reverence in everyone’s voices. To hear that my dad gave Peter his first job and that he was patient and kind even when Peter forgot to put the truck in park one day and let it roll into another truck, narrowly missing a gas pump. It’s quite something to hear the descriptors I would use, come from so many other people. I knew he was gentle and patient and compassionate with me. I knew he listened like his life depended on it when I had something to say. I knew he was always fair and contemplative when it came to difficult situations in my life. But I didn’t realize he was this way with the people he worked with.
I know my dad has passions and strong convictions, but he never pushes them on others. And if I ever spoke him speak ill of another person’s lifestyle, it was that he “hated mediocrity”. This much is obvious to everyone he ever worked with. My dad never put half of himself into anything. It was all or nothing. He loves me and my sister and brother with everything he has, but my father loves people too. He sees everyone as valuable and I know he worked and continues to work every day to do what his convictions tell him is right and true. My father is not a man of formal religion, but he is a man of the spirit. He is a man of integrity. And I have never been more touched or proud of him as I was last night at his retirement party.
I knew it was important that I be there, but I didn’t really understand how important until the evening got rolling and I was sad in my heart that my sister and brother weren’t there to hear the things that were said. Children, no matter how good our intentions are, seem doomed to underestimate and take for granted how wonderful our parents are. I think from the moment we turn 14 and our parents fall from grace to a place where we see them as flawed and human and mortal for the first time, from that moment they have to work twice as hard to regain their position in the ranks as anywhere near cool or hip or worthy of our attention (I’m speaking from a teenager’s view at this point). And even in adulthood, when we see our parents for their weaknesses and also begin to appreciate their strengths, I think we can’t really understand how incredible these people who made and raised us are until we see them as others see them. When people who have no vested interest in loving them or revering them or honouring them DO anyway, that means something huge. When an outside source tells us just how important an honour it is to win an Amethyst award, that’s when we begin to understand. When an outside source tells us just how important an honour it is to be given an eagle feather, that’s when our minds begin to grasp it.
My father feels satisfied at the end of his career that he has done his best. That he has made the right decisions in his heart and he has worked to the best of his potential. He has fought for things he still believes to be true and good. And he wishes for everyone to have that feeling when they come to the end of their formal career.
My Dad is pretty great. I already knew that. But it’s quite something else to hear it from a roomful of people as well as voices from the East to West Coast, people who have worked with him for years, people who knew my grandfather and compare him favourably to him. It’s quite something to hear the reverence in everyone’s voices. To hear that my dad gave Peter his first job and that he was patient and kind even when Peter forgot to put the truck in park one day and let it roll into another truck, narrowly missing a gas pump. It’s quite something to hear the descriptors I would use, come from so many other people. I knew he was gentle and patient and compassionate with me. I knew he listened like his life depended on it when I had something to say. I knew he was always fair and contemplative when it came to difficult situations in my life. But I didn’t realize he was this way with the people he worked with.
I know my dad has passions and strong convictions, but he never pushes them on others. And if I ever spoke him speak ill of another person’s lifestyle, it was that he “hated mediocrity”. This much is obvious to everyone he ever worked with. My dad never put half of himself into anything. It was all or nothing. He loves me and my sister and brother with everything he has, but my father loves people too. He sees everyone as valuable and I know he worked and continues to work every day to do what his convictions tell him is right and true. My father is not a man of formal religion, but he is a man of the spirit. He is a man of integrity. And I have never been more touched or proud of him as I was last night at his retirement party.
I knew it was important that I be there, but I didn’t really understand how important until the evening got rolling and I was sad in my heart that my sister and brother weren’t there to hear the things that were said. Children, no matter how good our intentions are, seem doomed to underestimate and take for granted how wonderful our parents are. I think from the moment we turn 14 and our parents fall from grace to a place where we see them as flawed and human and mortal for the first time, from that moment they have to work twice as hard to regain their position in the ranks as anywhere near cool or hip or worthy of our attention (I’m speaking from a teenager’s view at this point). And even in adulthood, when we see our parents for their weaknesses and also begin to appreciate their strengths, I think we can’t really understand how incredible these people who made and raised us are until we see them as others see them. When people who have no vested interest in loving them or revering them or honouring them DO anyway, that means something huge. When an outside source tells us just how important an honour it is to win an Amethyst award, that’s when we begin to understand. When an outside source tells us just how important an honour it is to be given an eagle feather, that’s when our minds begin to grasp it.
My father feels satisfied at the end of his career that he has done his best. That he has made the right decisions in his heart and he has worked to the best of his potential. He has fought for things he still believes to be true and good. And he wishes for everyone to have that feeling when they come to the end of their formal career.
I still have many, many things to learn from my Dad.
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