On the Occasion of Father's Day

Once many years ago by accident I found a card in my father's den that he had tucked in the pages of a fairly obscure political book. I didn't recognize the handwriting, and I read it. It was a thank you note from a woman I knew had done some secretarial work for my father around this time. Apparently my father had helped this woman send her daughter to a summer program of some kind that she had not been able to afford on her own. I happened to know this woman was a single mother raising two children, while working full-time, as well as a kind and lovely person. But it never would have occurred to me that my father would have done something like this--we did not have vast funds lying around for such purposes--and I was also surprised that he had not told us he had done it.

When I asked him about it, he was embarrassed. It's nothing, he mumbled, effectively terminating the discussion. But I didn't think so then, and I don't think so still, when I stop to think about all of the times my father has done something to help someone, gone out of his way to be loving or kind, made someone who is marginalized feel special, sacrificed his own time, energy, comfort, or preference on behalf someone he loves. I wonder sometimes how many other stories, thank you notes, like this one he has; I suspect it is a number larger than most people can lay claim to. It reminds me of my father's favorite expression: Judge people not by what they say but by what they do. Clearly, he applies this standard to himself.

My father tends to attribute my sister's and my best qualities entirely to my mother, whom he worships. Although he is confident about many things, he has always suffered from a lack of confidence in his parenting, in spite of our constant ringing endorsements. I suspect this is because he feels he did not have a good role model as a father himself and still--with two children approaching forty fast--fears that he is winging it, while everyone else has the answers.

Nobody has the answers. As a parent of two myself, I see this now so clearly. And although my mother is a wonderful parent, in every possible way, my father is such an integral part of who we are--the best parts of both of us, that I need to tell him again, in a different way than I have before, so maybe, this time, he will believe it.

Dad, every time Alison and I walk down the street and it feels like we know everyone in our respective neighborhoods, that is you. Your ability to make people feel like a part of something, to remember and acknowledge faces, to read people, to ease into a scene, any scene, by being your own quirky, funny, unabashed self, to spearhead groups and bring people together, to lighten a mood, to become the ultimate "regular"--all these have made you an excellent dad.

I remember a little ripped out piece of newspaper you kept pinned above your desk when I was a child. It was something about how the magic of JFK was his ability to treat people equally, be "at home with" people equally, whether paupers or kings. Your children never saw you treat anyone with disrespect, ever; don't underestimate the impact of your decision to make this a core value on your children.

In at least 40 years, probably 50, you have never once walked by a lemonade stand--or a child selling anything--without stopping to buy. You have pulled over in traffic to do this, made U-turns to do this, borrowed money from a stranger to do this, and for about 20 years now, I have--to myself, until now--followed suit. You think of this as a small thing, a sentimental thing. I beg to differ. I have seen too many of the children's faces in response.

Although we always knew, in our own ways, that we--with mom--were the loves of your life, I also knew from very early on that you had a life, and other loves: animals, politics, basketball, your own loyal, funny friends, your equally life-loving sister, your work, your home, reading, and more. This has shaped me as a parent, my memories of how alive you were, have always been, remain, how engaged with the world, how protective of your passions. You taught me that children don't need to be ostentatiously made the center of the universe, they need to be raised by people who show them the possibilities of fully realized personhood while loving them so hard they never for a fraction of an instant ever question it.

So on Father's Day, for Father's Day, I offer you this. Words, I know, only words, but I like to think that at our very best, in our actions, the way we walk through the world, we are living proof of who you are and what you have done. I hope you think so too.