Father's Day

Father's Day Where would I be without my father. I'm not being factitious at all, its a true to life question I'm posing.Father's tend to be wonderful people. Typically, caring providers who look out for the greater interests of a family. Protectors, disciplinarians, seekers and gathers alike.In my case I have some very profound memories of growing up that, through the years, have provided me with a depth of respect, admiration, and true affection for my father. Over these past 40+ years, life experiences, taught and learned, along with some truly outstanding and commendable actions, have helped me to become the person I am now. Probably more so than I may have ever acknowledged, the guidance, presence and love of my father shed the most light on the paths I have taken. Let me explain...Some of my earliest memories of being in my fathers presence probably arise from archived pictures rather than direct memory. At around age 5 I remember riding around in a pedal powered toy fire truck. About the same time I remember concrete being poured for a garage and lots and lots of gardening work. Baseball mits and afternoon catches. Cringing at those fateful words of "did you finish your homework?" "Yes, Dad." "Bring it to me so I can check it." Then instantly having that sinking feeling because I knew I'd not finished yet or had made an unknown mistake.I remember my father bringing loads and loads of work home with him. He'd always have office work at night and on the weekends as well. He'd lay on the livingroom floor with a yellow legal pad and write for hours on end. Memo's strewn about here and there reviewing all forms of application and background. As I got older I remember him being on the phone for hours on end and wonder to myself how his ear didn't just dislodge from his head.Then the teenage years arrived. I was involved in many activities; boy scouts, swimming, school sports, summer camps, etc etc. I was not exactly an outgoing person at this point. In retrospect I'd gather that all of these activities brought about my eventual personality flip-flop towards who I am now.Some of the most acute memories of my father surround a varied set of happenings:1st - We were on a family trip to California. I'd venture to say it was the early 70's. We visited San Diego, Disneyland, and then started driving up US 1 along the coastline. The views were amazing, the road windy and exciting for a child. At points we'd climb higher and higher above the ocean and could see for miles. At one point it became a challenge to look for cars that had left the roadway and crashed hundreds of feet below. The water now gently rusting the steel hulks and returning them from whenst they came. The underlying reason for those wasting hulks were lost on my sister and me. To my parents though, it must have been blantantly clear.We rounded one turn and suddenly my father pulled off the road onto the dirt shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye he'd caught a glimpse of a person in need of help. Ever so casually he walked away from the car, leaving mom, sis, and me behind. Another car came by, my father spoke to them from a distance and they sped away in a fury. For the longest time, I watched as my father stood looking out at the ocean, to me just talking to the clouds and rising surf. At times his hands in his pockets, at others he'd take a very small step further away from us and then stop. He just kept talking. We asked mom what dad was doing and she said he was talking to a nice girl who was watching the ocean. Then, a while later, a police car showed up. The police officer got out of his car, said something on his radio, went to his trunk, casually took his black shoes off and put on knee high boots. He walked over to my father, gestured, shook my fathers hand and then walked away and out of sight. My father calmly walked back to the car and we sat there for a short time. My father began telling my mother a breif story about a girl who was watching the ocean. The girl had been crying and was sitting on some rocks very close to the edge so she could get a better view of the water. Years later, I finally came to understand that a woman had been distraught and resolved herself to end life with a jump. My father, having come across this person in need, calmly went to her and began talking. He tried to reason and convince her not to end her life. The police officer showed up, thanked my father profusely and casually put his climbing boots on. From there he began to interven and try to help this woman as well. It was the casualness of the officers actions that really struck everyone. He'd done this dozens if not hundreds of times. Later that day my parents watched the news and checked the papers for any word of this woman's fate. Nothing. It was such a common occurrence that it wasn't even worthy of black ink. We like to think that the officer succeeded. Later in my life I learned through study that there's a window of opportunity in such a distraught persons life, and most likely the woman decided to step back from the edge and continue her life. It was this moment in time that my father became a hero, forever more, to me.2nd - I was 16 years old. In some form at the family dinner table we started speaking on the subject of careers. My mind was of course all over the place. I loved the thought of firefighting, medical services, heavy equipment operator, newspaper reporter, etc. My father then related a story to me that his father had related to him. The gist of the story was, each and every job/career, at some point, is the most important and powerful in the world. The anecdote provided was that my grandfather was in Staten Island waiting for the ferry to take him back to Manhattan (obviously before the Veranzano Bridge was constructed). At the head of the line was the CEO of a large corporation with a chip on his shoulder. The safety gate at the base of the ramp was drawn tightly closed in front of him. That CEO was running late and he felt that honking his horn would speed the process of getting the ferry to Manhattan faster. The CEO became incensed and began to verbally demean the gate attendant standing to the side. He mocked the gatesman's overalls as compared to his three piece $1000 suit. He mocked the gatesmans shoes with their warn away soles as opposed to his loafers of italian leather. He'd ended each tirade with "Do you know who I am? I have to get to a very important meeting. I have the mind to call the Mayor." The gate attendant, clad in his dirty overalls, holely shoes, unshaven and chewing tabacco non-chalantly walked over to this very powerful man and said, "sir, you can honk and yell and scream at me in your fine shoes, expensive suit, and fancy car, but remember this, you ain't goin' nowhere until I open that gate." The CEO suddenly realized that his title, fancy clothes, the people he knew, or his position in line weren't going to get him, any faster, to Manhattan. With a profound juxtaposition, that gatesman was suddenly the most powerful man in the world to the CEO. It was with this simple story that my father taught me to respect everyone I came in contact with.3. And lastly, out of the many many acts of kindness and respect of others my father has done, its the times he's said how proud of me he is that have meant the most. Whether its because of my medical, firefighting, or daily business exploits, my father is and has always been there to tell me he loves me, gives me that kiss on the cheek, a warm hug, firm handshake or again that expression of his pride which fills my heart with warmth. I will always and forever try to achieve that pride from my father. For it will always be the standard he's set that I will try and equal in all that I do. He's taught me respect, humility, admiration of others, drive, generosity and consideration. In the end, my parents will always be the two greatest stories of my life. Without their daily presence, I would be just a shell of who I am today.I love you dad.