Yesterday was my father’s birthday (he turned 71), and Sunday is Father’s Day.
So in light of these two special occasions and in honor of my father, I’m including below a column I recently wrote for a small parenting newsletter. It’s pretty cheesy, but hey, this blog is called Dad’s ‘Mac & Cheese.’ (The disclaimer is right in the title.)
Larger Than Life
Like many people, I have wonderful childhood memories of my father as being larger than life. He would often walk into a room full of people loudly proclaiming, “Here I am, you lucky people.” In fact, he still does.
While said in jest, it was, and remains, the truth. As we’ve both gotten older, I’ve come to an even deeper appreciation of the man my father is: honest, hard working, loyal, and always willing to help. He loves to laugh and tell stories, many of which poke fun of himself. All qualities I’ve tried to emulate.
My dad, never an overachiever in the classroom, frequently tells the story of his college interview in Boston. He grew up in a rural area in central New Hampshire and attended a small regional high school.
Sitting in his college interview, he was asked where he graduated in his class – his class rank. Apparently, the interviewer was used to dealing with kids in graduating classes of hundreds of students, so when my dad said he graduated 16th in his class, the interviewer was notably impressed. “So this guy’s going on and on about how great that is,” says my dad. “Meanwhile, I’m sitting there thinking, ‘This guy’s a nut, he’s off his rocker.’ I eventually lean in and say, ‘Um, excuse me sir, there were only 17 people in my class.’” Classic.
In another one of his, and my, favorite stories, he recounts a conversation he had with my maternal grandfather when he was dating my mom. My grandfather commented that my dad must have a decent amount of money saved, seeing as he’s had a pretty steady job (he worked at Raytheon for over 30 years before retiring). My dad’s response, “No, sir, I don’t have any money saved, but I do have an awful lot of good memories.”
Unfortunately, in a cruel twist of fate, particularly for a man that’s always loved to tell stories, my dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s a couple of years ago. Although he’s still in the early stages, it’s painful to watch my father slowly lose grasp of the very memories that have meant so much to him, and to me. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain and frustration he feels.
Thankfully, my kids have become two of the “lucky people” who have experienced my father walking into a room. They have had the chance to come to know and love their grandfather. My son Luke in particular has a great affinity for him. Whenever we are expecting company, no matter who it is or how many times we tell him who’s coming, if we ask, “Guess who’s coming?” Luke’s immediate response is always a hopeful and excited, “Grandpa!?”
My own kids are wonderful reminders of the great childhood memories I have of my own dad – when their eyes light up as I enter a room, when they rush into my office to share their latest news, when they squeal with glee, exclaiming, “Dad, tickle me!”
As with most fathers, the type of dad and person I’ve become has been informed in large part by my experiences and memories with my own father. He’s established a high bar as a father and grandfather, but one I constantly strive to reach. I only hope that he’s as proud to have me as a son as I am to have him as a father.
So, in the immortal words of my Dad, “Here I am, you lucky people.”
I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese.’
