Tag Archives: father’s day

Father’s Day – from a mug my wife gave me

DAD

A son’s first hero.

A daughter’s first love.

 

Every morning as I get their breakfasts ready I am keenly aware of the awesome responsibility laid on me; a responsibility that will not be discharged until they have left the nest, able to stand on their own.

  • Love G-d first and keep Him and His laws in their hearts, minds, and souls; in parallel, cherish their Jewishness, preserve it, and pass it onward
  • Love, honor, and protect their country, America – the greatest, most exceptional country in the history of the world (and in parallel, Western Civilization)
  • Love their family, help each other, and have families of their own – part of the obligation laid on each generation for the privilege of being born is to continue that chain to the next generation
  • Bring honor to themselves, their faith, their country, and their families

And so much more.

Yesterday I made my daughter clean her room after her play date.  Part of the responsibility after the fun of such an event is to deal with the aftermath.  She didn’t enjoy that, but teaching responsibility is part of my duty.

Yesterday I made my son cry after telling him to not doing something; not because I enjoy doing that, but because he needs to understand that to think before he acts is one of the hallmarks of a human being – as opposed to being an animal that just does.

My job is not to be their friend; my job is to love, protect, and prepare them for when they are adults.  And yes, I relish their love, and kisses, and “I love you Daddy!”s… but that’s icing on the cake.  Having them grow up into mature adults, good and observant Jews, staunch American patriots, educated and ready to enter the world and stand on their own, and in control of themselves and their emotions.

Then… I will have fulfilled my duty as a Dad.  Then, I hope to be their friend.

 

 

Father’s Day: A Brief Retrospective

Pearson Hunt, 1908-2002

07-hunt1-225

I remember it perfectly.  June 30th, 2002, at about 2 AM.  My mother called to say they were rushing to the hospital as my father felt terrible… “I’ve never felt like this, call an ambulance!” is what he told my mother.  I raced around the house, making sure things were set for the two cats I had for a day or so, throwing a couple of things in a bag, and speeding down to the hospital.  I blew through towns with 30 MPH speed limits at 60… 70… racing down the highway at 90+.  I was sure I was going to get a ticket.  Amazingly, I made it down to Mount Auburn Hospital without a single stop.

My mother met me in the ER hallway.  “He’s gone.”  I nearly collapsed.

The central man in my life, the man who taught me so many things, was laying still on a gurney.  I half-expected him to sit up with a smile and say “GOTCHA!” in repayment for all the times I’d gotten him.  (One time I told him “Did you know ‘gullible’ isn’t in the dictionary?”  He was halfway down the hall to the room where we kept the dictionary when he let out a WHOOP! and complimented me on the joke.)

But he didn’t.  I found out that when he’d arrived one small corner of his heart was still beating, but the rest was still.  There was nothing that could be done, and my mother made the final call to let him go.

And an interesting foreshadowing… I was visiting just beforehand, leaving for home the day before his passing.  My mother was away shopping.  We were talking when my father looked at me with a very strange and intense expression, and said “Promise me you will take care of your mother.  She’s fine financially, but will need your support emotionally.”  I swore; of course I would.

Did he know?

Since then I’ve gone through a divorce, being jobless, courting and marrying a beautiful woman.  We have two amazing kids.  I’ve built a career, a blog, and am now looking for work again.

And next time we go to Shul (Synagogue) his Yahrzeit will be announced.

I wonder what he would think of my life now.  What advice would he give?

I see echoes of him in the mirror.  I remember him each time I see a palindrome on my car’s odometer – something which he always pointed out to me.  And he comes to mind all the time…

Happy Father’s Day

I have a mug:

DAD

A son’s first hero.  A daughter’s first love.

 

To all the fathers out there, thank you.  May G-d grant you – and I – are worthy of that admiration and love.

 

“One hundred years from now

It will not matter

What kind of car I drove,

What kind of house I lived in,

How much I had in my bank

Nor what my clothes looked like.

One hundred years from now

It will not matter

What kind of school I attended,

What kind of typewriter I used,

How large or small my church,

But the world may be …

a little better because…

I was important in the life of a child.”

By Forest Whitcraft

 

And to my own father: I hope you see how I’m doing and, while shaking your head at all the mistakes I’m making, I hope you’re also proud.  I miss you.