
My wife is an avid scrapbooker. She has a desire to document what we do as a family and create a record of the fun times we have together as a family. I am less of a photograph friendly person, but I love the books that my wife puts together. They really do bring back the great memories of what we have done together.
My Dad was the opposite. He did not take many pictures. He did not write about the things we did together. But he made an effort to craft situations and times together that will stick with me for all of my life. My father was a Dad of the old school type. When he came home from work, you let him read the paper and chill out before dinner. He wasn’t involved in everything I did.
Take Cub Scouts for example. We recently had the pinewood derby for my son’s pack. He did well and got second place in best of show for the pack and won first place in the district. The two of us worked on the project together. The concept was all my son’s idea. My wife took him to Hobby Lobby to find items to decorate the car. I help him shape the car with power tools. My wife and I were with him every step of the way.
My Dad was far more hands off. He pointed to where the hand tools were and said it was my car. My cars drove like a brick and looked like a six-year-old made it.
But even though he was hands off with so many things, Saturday mornings were our time. He always made breakfast while my Mom slept in. He would get enthusiasms (it’s the only way I can think of describing it). After taking me to see Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, he ran off to an Indian food grocery store and came back with a can of squid in the ink he tried to serve for breakfast the next Saturday. The man had the stomach of a goat and could eat anything. I didn’t get that gift.
One Saturday, he woke me up and said we are making donuts. We spent about three hours together making donuts. I had no idea if he had sat and planned it. I just know I got to spend those hours with my Dad making donuts. They were the best donuts I had ever eaten. We did this exactly once.
Other mornings, he would set up an old movie projector in the garage. While he worked, I was right there with him and he showed me old Woody Woodpecker cartoons and Tarzan movies he had in an old box. He had these since he was a child with some dating back to the 1930s.
But what stuck out most in my mind, were our camping trips. My Dad and I would go on these road trips from Tampa to North Carolina. We would camp each night but on the way to the main campground, we would do these little side trips. We saw the infantry museum at Fort Benning and the Special Forces Museum at Fort Bragg. He would tell me stories about growing up during the Great Depression. He would talk about his experiences as a Boy Scout. One of his merit badges he was proud of was Animal Husbandry.
He told me stories about BB Gun fights and rubber band wars he and his friends fought. They broke into teams and tried to recreate the battles they saw in the newsreels during the Second World War.
While Dad didn’t invest time in me on a daily basis, the time he invested was high quality. It was time I valued and craved. I learned about who my Dad was what he did growing up and how much the world had changed. What sticks with me the most is how I long for just one more conversation with him. Dad passed away in 1999. But those memories are with me to this day and are brighter and more vivid than a professional photo.
I want to leave the same for my son. I don’t want to hold anything back from him. Now there are some stories he won’t hear from me until it is age appropriate, but I want him to know me for who I am and who I was. Obviously, the Elementary School version of us is not the same as the High School version which, in turn, is different from the Adult version. I want to leave him knowing I love him no matter what, the way my Dad did for me.
My Dad would tell me he was proud of me. He told me he loved me. He showed me by the time we spent together. I remember him looking at me in the eye and saying, “This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased.” Given where he got it, I always felt special. It’s now my job to pass that on to my boy in my actions, words and time.


