Father's Day

So it’s Father’s Day. My 19^th without my own Father. I have spent more days on this Earth without him now, than with him. That thought always stops me cold. But I guess, in a way, I have never been without him. He raised me as a single Dad, and so much of who I am is because of who he was.

My Dad was the one who kissed my boo-boos. Who sewed up the tears in my clothes. Who cheered when I played softball or acted in a play. Who cooked and cleaned up after me. In short, my Dad played the typical Mother role in my life.

He was also clearly my Dad. He was big and strong. He taught me drive and fish. He tried to teach me how to fix cars…tried being the operative word.

He was born in the 30’s but if he ever had old-fashioned ideas about a woman’s role, he’d shed them long before I knew him. I was expected to learn to the best of my ability and to demonstrate my intelligence and speak up for myself. He expected me  to do what was right, never what was easy.

I remember in 9^th grade staging a walk-out to protest budget cuts to schools. I came home and told my Dad. My knees were quaking, I thought he’d be mad I left class. He told me he was proud of me. So yeah, that is what made my Dad proud of me. Standing up for what I believe in, not just obeying the rules. I can’t say there weren’t rough patches, there were. But he was a good Dad.

And looking back, I saw from an early age how are societies assumptions about male/female roles were so wrong. Every teacher says, “ask your Mother” or “give this note to your Mom”. “You mean my Dad, “ I’d say. They’d get flustered and confused. So I never bought into it. I knew at 8 that they were wrong. Yet another thing I owe to my Dad.

So, Happy Father’s Day Dad. I hope I am making you proud. You taught me what responsibility means. What we owe every other human being, which is our best. What I owe my child, which is everything. And what I’m capable of, which is anything.