thoughts about my Dad

My Dad was a gentle man. He was patient, good-natured, soft-spoken, and rarely angry. I remember one time when we lived in Curtis -- I had noticed one young tree in our backyard which had somehow lost a little bit of its bark. The part which was showing was smooth and was such a pretty buttery color. So I proceeded to take off more bark, thinking how pretty it made the tree look. I finally took it off all around the trunk. When Dad saw what I had done, he wasn’t very happy about it, but rather than ranting, he explained that I had disrupted the way the tree got its nourishment. I had killed the tree. But his explaining what had happened left a stronger impression on me than if he had gotten angry or if he had punished me.

Dad always felt that everyone was equal, and always said I could be anything I wanted to be. His support, before 1960’s feminism really got it’s start, was fairly unique as I later discovered out in the work world. His sense of fairness was strong and the concept of discrimination was intolerable. He counseled us kids to vote and to be aware of the world around us. We were encouraged to be doers -- to take whatever steps were needed to right wrongs or to stand up for something. He wanted us to stand on our own two feet and be the best that we could be.

Dad had such a nice smile and I enjoyed it when he laughed; it made him even more handsome than he already was. And dance -- he could dance up a storm. Music must have been part of his soul because when Glenn Miller was playing, he couldn’t sit still. If we were out hiking, he’d break into song, teach us some little ditty, or get us singing a round. “To ope’ their trunks the trees are never seen. How then do they put on their coats of green? They leave them out.”

Dad’s compassion and concern for other people’s feelings had a strong influence on me. His teaching of being considerate has stayed with me through many trying situations. And it wasn’t just his words, he taught by doing. I’ll never forget when he came to visit me after I had my mastectomy. He gave me a great big hug, and I knew it was intended to bolster my self-image, to let me know I was still a valuable, loveable person even though I might not feel that way. It was a tremendously kind and loving thing to do.

Kind and loving, that was my Dad. Accepting, supportive, gentle, yet strong and lasting. His teachings, his memories, his goodness lives on. But I shall always miss him.