MY DADS

On Memorial Day we visited four cemeteries honoring beloved relatives.  At three grave sites I stood in awe and reverence as I remembered the three men who most influenced, loved and shaped me. 

I never hugged my father, Art.  His B-24 was shot down before I was born.  But I have spent my life searching for him: what he was like, his joys and loves, his talents and treasures.  I have molded my personality around what I have discovered.  I continue to carry on connections and discern directions I believe he would approve. 

 

Growing up I thought I was the unluckiest person in the world.  My friends vacationed in different states.  I got stuck in a rented cottage up north on a fishing lake.  I sulked a lot growing up.    And I blamed my parents, especially my step dad, Bill.  He was incredibly patient with me.  He asked little and loved big.  I never appreciated just how hard it must have been to be a dad to me.

 

Before my mother remarried she and her sister lived together, sharing me, sharing responsibilities, mixing baby-sitting and dating.  When my aunt started dating my Uncle Bob, he shared me too!  Throughout my life he was a steady, happy presence, encouraging me often not to take myself so seriously; melting my grumpiness with humor and hugs.

 

Art, Bill, and Bob. Three men of the Greatest Generation.  I honor them this Father’s Day.