The first post might make it seem like I have some unresolved father issues. I don't. I think he was brilliant and I'm a better person for ever having the pleasure to know him and honored to have been his son. As some of you know, he passed away March 11, 1994 and I wish he could have seen his grand kids and my wife, etc. However, now that I'm parenting I feel I'm channelling him quite a bit lately. I'd like to give a couple of funny examples.
On Friday, Rush Limbaugh had his annual Leukemia Lymphoma Cure-a-thon. As I was making my donation I started laughing. I remembered an incident a few decades back and called my mom who confirmed every last detail. Here's how it went down. Back in the day there were four channels, no remotes, and no VCRs. Computers were for business not home use and on Labor day you had three choices, play outside, read, or watch the Jerry Lewis telethon. I chose the latter one year around the time I was six or seven. I was so compelled by the stars and the stories of the poor children afflicted by this disease that I felt I had to do something. Just like Jerry said, it was easy, just call the toll free number and make your pledge. Credit cards weren't really the thing back then, so they just sent you an invoice. Low and behold a week or so later my father calls my mother into the den. "Bertha, did you pledge five dollars to the Muscular Dystrophy telethon?" "No, why?" was her response. "I don't understand how this...wait, MARCO!!!!"
I enter the room. "Yes sir," I said meekly wondering which of my yet undiscovered mischiefs they had uncovered.
"Did you pledge five dollars to the Jerry Lewis telethon?"
Ha, this was easy, I was doing a good thing.
"Yes sir I did, I wanted to make a difference."
"Son, that is really great. I'm proud of you. Go get five dollars," he said.
"Why dad? What do you mean? I kind of figured you would pay it."
Dad said, "I know, but today you learn that being charitable with someone else's money is not a virtue. Any fool can give away someone else's money. So your choices are: go get five dollars (which he knew I didn't have) or I'll back out the truck and you get to wash it, for which I'll pay you five dollars and then collect from you to send to Jerry's kids."
I laughed and laughed about this today. I wonder when my Connor or Josie charity moment will arrive.
The second involves commitment. When I was in the 9-10 year old baseball league I was the best player on our team. One day, and I'm certain I deserved it, my father punished me for something I had done at school. And add in the fact that he was the coach of our team and was always trying to help me get better with "constructive criticism" I decided to fight back. He came home from work and started getting ready for practice. I sat coolly in the living room, waiting to spring my trap.
"Son, let's go, you're not dressed yet."
"I've decided I'm not going to play baseball any longer. I'm not having fun and you don't appreciate me." Ha, I nailed him. Now he'd have to quit too and the whole team would be out the best player and a coach. I'd gotten back at possibly the entire world. At worst, he'd apologize, rescind my punishment and beg me to come back if only to save face.
"Okay son, if that's your decision I'll respect it. But I wish you'd have given more attention to the commitment you made. I'll see you after practice."
Whoa!!! What just happened? "Dad? Where are you going?" I asked.
"To coach the team. Just because you quit doesn't mean that I'm not going to quit. I'm going to honor the commitment I made to the team." And he left.
By the time he got home, I thought for sure the team would have taken my side and I was eagerly awaiting the apology. It never came.
"How did practice go," I asked.
"Fine, but don't worry about it." He answered.
My plan didn't work and of course I loved baseball. So the next practice day came and I was waiting at the door, practice uniform on, bat, glove, cleats and hat at the ready and raring to go.
Dad said, "where are you going?"
"To practice I answered, I've decided to rejoin the team."
"It doesn't work that way, buddy. See you tonight." And he left without me.
By the time he got home I was bawling. In between sobs I begged him to let me back on the team. He said, "Son, I will always love and forgive you. No matter what you do. But you have to earn the respect of your teammates no matter how good you are or think you are. If you want to get back on the team, you have to ask their forgiveness for letting them down and permission to rejoin the team. All people make mistakes, but it takes a man to admit them, accept the blame and consequences, and ask forgiveness. They may or may not want you back, but you have to be willing to let them decide. Can you do that?"
"Yes sir."
"That's all I can ask of you son."
The next practice, he called the team together and said I had something to say. (I found out later he never told them I quit). I looked down at my feet and apologized for missing practice and for being selfish, and I asked if I could still be part of the team. They all said yes and I felt about 10 feet tall. My dad hugged me and said he was proud of me, that he recognized that it wasn't an easy thing to do.
Dad, I'm proud of you too. I hope Connor and Josie have the same fond stories of me someday.
No comments:
Post a Comment