Every year on my birthday for the past 20 years I hear about how Dad, sitting in a hospital waiting room, became nervous and agitated as the code blue was sent out for all doctors to respond to the delivery room. Code blue means respiratory distress; the delivery room was where newborn me lay naked, covered in goo, cold, lonely and a bit miffed. I was so pissed off about getting kicked out of my warm environment that I held my breath well past the point of turning blue. Eventually the medical team got me breathing and both Mom and Dad were allowed to hold me and adore the perfect child they’d FINALLY brought forth (see what I did there older brother and sisters?). My family never pass up the opportunity though to point out the fact that I’ve caused headaches from that first day on. I’ve learned that a slow beginning doesn’t always mean a poor finish. After getting over the initial shock and anger of leaving the womb I think I’ve done okay for myself. I apologize for all the fear and concern I caused for Mom and Dad that first day, and every day since, but I am what I am I guess.
A few years later I distinctly remember Dad telling me NOT to touch the hot iron that Mom was preheating to press some shirts that were just laundered. That got me wondering… How hot can that really be? After a blistered palm, a lot of crying, and a hand held under cold running water for quite a while, I learned the lesson that sometimes you just have to trust what people say, especially when those people are parents.
I came home from kindergarten one day proud to show my reading ability only to have Dad point out to me that Spot may not have actually been running, but the author wanted me to BELIEVE that Spot was running. Initially I was confused, later I figured out he was telling me not to believe everything I read, but to find out answers for myself. That lesson serves me well these days as I’ve found you can read just about anything on the internet, but you need to think for yourself to determine the truth.
Dad often preached Sunday sermons that addressed current events. He’d talk about civil rights, the insanity of war, and equal rights for all. Late in his career he started a Native American United Church of Christ congregation in south Minneapolis. A message I took from a lot of his sermons is that you shouldn’t judge another until you’ve walked a mile in their moccasins. Be compassionate, try to understand others, show some empathy. I think the world would be a better place if we all kept those thoughts in mind.
When I was young Dad showed me how to throw and catch a baseball, told me how to compute batting averages, and taught me how to interpret football play calls (first number was the running back, second number the hole he’d run through – evens to the right, odds to the left). The lesson I learned from all of that was that you have to work a little to have fun, but once you figure it out it all becomes easier. Incidentally, I still use the same computations Dad taught me to figure batting averages, all those years ago, every day still as an accountant at the U of M.
As I got older Dad used to take us on canoe trips with other kids from our church. He always told us we should try to leave our campsite in better condition than how we found it. I took that one to heart and try to do the same every day. That’s why I pick up trash on the street to throw it away.
Heck, sometimes that ‘trash’ is valuable. I’ve found $20 bills a few times and just a few weeks ago found $280 worth of Minnesota Wild(s) tickets. I kept the twenties, but the Wild(s) tickets got returned to their rightful owner and the team rewarded my honesty with tickets to another game. Junior used the tickets and had a good time. Imagine how nice a place we’d all inhabit if we picked up after ourselves AND others? If nothing else there’d be an awful lot of good karma floating around.
Years ago we helped Mom and Dad build their lake home in Ely. Dad modified plans drawn up by an architect to better utilize stock lumber and minimize unnecessary cuts that would waste time and lumber. On that project, and others projects Dad helped me with on our home, he showed me the benefits of improvising while also stressing the importance of measuring twice and cutting once. You can work your own plan, but take care to do it right. I’ve tried to do that on my path through life.
All in all Dad has told me a lot of important things that I’ve been able to apply to my life.
On Wednesday November 30th, Dad called to tell me that earlier that day he’d been diagnosed with Esophageal Cancer.
Never has a phone call, or anything Dad or anyone else told me, felt like such a punch in the gut.
I was speechless.
My mind reeled and I couldn’t think of what to say.
In time the words came and we spoke of what comes next.
How he is feeling.
What the doctors will be doing.
What we can do for Mom.
There are so many things to consider when you hear that someone you love dearly,
have always relied on, and,
have learned so much from,
has cancer.
In the few days since Dad’s diagnoses he has already taught me a thing or two about dying. I plan to keep learning from him by being with him and Mom as much as I can in the time we still have. I hope to let him know how absolutely proud I am to be his son,
how blessed I’ve been for the time we’ve had together,
how grateful I am for the things he’s taught me, and,
how honored I am to carry the family name.
I hope I’ve made him proud.
An old guy like me still learning life’s most precious lessons from his Dad.
Who knew?
