Sometimes You Must Endure the Pain and Suffer Fools.

Something my dad said to me a long time ago has been ringing in my head recently. It's been a long time since I've heard my dad's voice. He used to ramble on in my head as I played golf and make his pithy comments and sarcastic remarks as I blundered my way through the day. He used to haunt my dreams like a ghost of Christmas past or the catcher in Field of Dreams. But it seems now he has let me go. Or I him. 

I realized the other day I had played a whole round of golf with my daughter and not once did I hear him say in my head, "Hardly worth looking up for! Or Hit it Alice!" Not a single word out of him about my lack of golfer's ettiquite or that I just needed to play my own game and not worry so much about winning. Looking back I see maybe it's because I never looked up and I hit it through the whole on every putt. More importantly I played gentleman's golf, I played my own game and most importantly we had fun. I didn't hear his voice, but I surely felt his pride. He was proud of me. As proud of me as I of my daughter. 

Pride is a sin and being proud isn't easy. But I believe it's a hard earned gift of life. A side effect of hard work and accomplishment.  My dad was a proud man and back in the day it was hard for me to take. I couldn't put many of the things he said in proper context. I just couldn't appreciate his perspective. At times he was so self deprecating and humble. And at other times he would be so bold and confident the world would step aside and defer to his experience.

On one such occasion I was at a low point in my early manhood. I was 18 years old and on my 14th day in a hospital bed. I had just received the good news from my doctor that it looks like I may not loose my leg after all. He, for the first time, sees signs of improvement in our battle against the post surgical staph infection that put me there. He said, "we have a long way to go and I expect you will remain here at least for a few more weeks, but the rest is up to you. You won't be playing baseball this Spring and your football scholarship this Summer is out of the question, but if we keep you on this new IV antibiotic and you work really hard in physical therapy you just might be able to walk out of here sometime next month. Oh, and no more morphine or pain medications, but I will allow Tylenol." He then turned away from me and asked my father if he had any questions. My dad looked right through him and said, "Son, sometimes you must endure the pain and suffer fools."

Did he just call my doctor a fool right to his face? 

If my dad wasn't between him and the door he would've walk out. But he was in the way and at that moment he did one of magic tricks by swelling up to twice his normal size and actually sucking all of the air completely out of the room (or maybe it was all the morphine and other stuff they had been pumping into me for weeks), but, he went on to say, "Nothing is ever out of the question. If you want to play baseball then you are going to play baseball. If you want to play football then you are going to play football. The good doctor just doesn't want you to get your hopes up. At times like these sometimes Hope is all we got. He has no idea what you are capable of doing. I've seen what you can do. I've seen what you have already overcome. If you want it bad enough you will make it happen."

Two and a half weeks later I walked out of Holy Cross Hospital. Three days after that I relief pitched three innings against Gaithersburg and I shut them down. Coach Manual said it was one of the most incredible things he had ever seen. Latter that summer we won two more baseball league championships. Somehow in August I survived summer camp and made the Miami University football team as a tight end and long snapper and claimed my scholarship. This is by no means a happily ever after as I went on to endure a lot of pain and suffer many fools. Or maybe it was I suffered a lot of pain and endured the fools, but either way I think I finally get it now. The fool is the one who thinks he knows it all. The one who shares his opinions so confidently. The guy who knows all the answers. The expert. The guy who knows best.

I've been that guy. I am that guy. But I see it now. I guess what's been rattling around in my head has been more like, "Sometimes you have to endure the pain and suffer yourself!" Maybe now I'll be able to move past this and not just endure the pain, but determine it's root cause and actually make it go away. Maybe I can quit suffering this fool and teach him how to be someone I actually want to hang out with. Maybe If I want it bad enough I can make it happen. 

Thanks DDD. Happy Farhers Day. Miss you.

Their Dad

Why am I here? My why sometimes makes me cry. Took me a while to figure this one out. For me the simple things usually do. My why. The Who I am. I am their dad. 

Knowing this obvious fact is different than being who this person should be. Committing to being a good dad, wanting to be a great dad, trying to be the man my children deserve changes everything. To be this man there are a few things I should do. There are some things I will do.

I will be a good husband. I will love their mother. I will show her that she is what matters. I will show them what it is to be loved. I will show her how beautiful she is and how blessed I am by her. I am grateful to God for her and will be accountable to Him for her. She is the who that made my why. She makes my why possible. She has made my ugly beautiful. She has made my crazy sane. She is the best part of me. 

I will be a good man. Not perfect. Good. Good is good enough. If I stay good great may come. When I fall I will get up. When I fail I will try again. If I disappoint I will take better aim. I will try.

I will play. I want to show them that life is fun and that having fun is something you do. Play is a great way to have fun. Having fun is a great way to be happy. Playing is a great way to say I am here with you. 

I will be there. I am here for you. I will love you always. No matter what. You are good. Good is good enough. Being good dares you to be great. You are beautiful. You are smart. You are enough. 

I will work hard. I will work smart. I will figure it out. I will show you how to do it. You will show me how to do it better.

I will show them that fear is usually a big waste of time. Courage is not lack of fear. Being brave is moving forward in the face of fear. I will show them the more they do something the easier it gets. 

Your 1230pm United flight to is delayed due to air traffic control. UA714 now departs Denver 225pm and arrives 812pm.  I am their dad too. I am the alpha of the house. Their leader. Their Champion. I lead  them out on hunts. I keep them close in danger. 

The last paragraph is classic me. I started writing this post in the airport. The flight delay notification email I accidently pasted was followed by two more and by then my chain of thought was completely broken and my point lost ADHD completely kicked in. Fortunately I hit save and this post didn't die.

I was obviously relating being a good dog master to my role as a dad. Being the alpha of the pack isn't easy. You have to earn alpha status. It's easy to be loved by your dogs. They give love so freely. It's who they are. But respect is hard. It has to be earned. Alpha. It's more than owner. More than leader. The way I see it a dog sees you for who you are. They see everything. The see right through anything fake. They see with more than their eyes. They feel you, they know how you feel. In many respects being a dog's master is harder than being a good dad. Many times in my life I have had to make the Master's decision. To decide your beloved has suffered enough and it is time to put them down. To be with them at the moment of their death. To walk away without them. It's hard. The picture of Henry as a young dog with snow on his face. It melts my heart. His life was so special. He made Suzy and me a family. He helped me be me after Sammy D. He was the best dog ever. He will always be with me. 

So I am my daughters' dad. I am my dogs' alpha. I am Suzy's husband. I am that, I am. Writing the who I am helps me understand why I cry when I think of the why I am. Makes me glad I try to know the why. Let's me know I am a child of God. Let's me kmow He loves me very much.

Father in law

This one is long over due. When it comes to dads I've been doubly blessed. If you've read any DDD posts you know how I feel about my father. I've said before you don't fully appreciate someone until they're gone. I unfortunately have learned this with hard lived experience with loved ones now gone knowing only now what they actually meant to me. 

This post is a little different for me as the person I am writing about is most likely going to read it. Pat Mentone is a great man. Truely humble. It may be harder for him to read it than it will be for me to write it.

This picture of Pat is maybe 3X5 in a little wood frame and has been around since Suzy and I met. I picture her having it on her desk up at BC as a college freshman being homesick wishing she was paddling the 10,000 lakes back home with her Dad.

So today I'm thinking about straightening up my office and my desk cluttered with three big frames laying flat, Suzy's diplomas from BC and CU Law and her Law Liciense (there since she left her last office at Killian Davis). On top of them is a random pile of my girl's report cards, pictures I've gathered to post about, tax returns, Mary's art, old mail, old headphones, new trash, and other stuff. A Veritable    mountain of stuff. As I sit to sort through it so I can get to Suzy's diplomas to hang them as a surprise I become completely distracted by this little wood framed picture of Pat standing on the back corner of my desk. I don't remember putting it there. I can't remember the last time I've even seen it before. 

I imagine it maybe has arrived the same time as Suzy's diplomas. Maybe she had it at her old office. I imagine her working away running that crazy law firm, being homesick, and looking at this picture wishing she was home paddling the 10,000 lakes with her dad.

It's a beautiful thing. Pat and Mary still live in the home Suzy grew up in. She's in her 40's and can still go home. Home. There is probably only one word  that warms my heart more than home. Love. I love our home. We love our home. We love our family. I love being a dad. I will gladly spend the rest of my life trying to be the dad my father was to me and trying to emulate the dad my father in law is to me now. 

Pat is everything in a man I wish to be. He is calm. He is patient. He is kind. In the nineteen years I've known him I have never once seen him loose his temper. Never once have I heard him raise his voice. When he gives advice he gives it in a way I can understand and from the heart so it gives no offense. His toast at our wedding was the secret to a happy marriage, "You need to have a sense of humor and a short memory."

Early on he gave me some financial advice I strive to live up to. "You need to learn how to live on less than what you make."

My brother in law Brent who married my sister always so comfortably called my parents mom and dad. To this day I call Suzy's parents Pat and Mary. Now that they are also my daughters' grandparents we all call them Pop Pop and Grandma, but I'm sure Mary would prefer me calling her Mary than calling her grandma. Since our youngest is also named Mary and is no longer Baby-Mary, we discussed maybe calling them Little Mary and Big Mary, but Big Mary made it clear she would much prefer just Mary. 

Pat is really tough. You couldn't tell by talking or walking with him or by his demeanor. You have to know all he's been through and the amount of pain he has had to deal with in his life. Recently he got his second hip replaced and how he was able to get around this last Spring break and hit balls at Pro-golf, tour an aquarium, and drive from Phoenix to Saint Paul with bone on bone in his hip shows some serious tolerance for pain. As a college kid he was blown up when his chemistry lab exploded. He almost didn't make it, but fortunately his mom's prayers and his will to survive carried him through.

It's ironic I'm posting about him here on Dumbdumbdaddayo because he's so smart. He's a PhD chemist and an engineer and an MBA and really good at figuring things out. He's naturally curious and really good at adopting new technology. He was using Skype before I had ever even heard of it. Sent us  this little laptop camera like 14 years ago and said plug it in so we can Skype our grand-daughter. I think back then we were still on a dialup modem, but it still worked.

These pictures from Spring break show the real story. I am so blessed to still have a dad in my life. Pat , I really appreciate you and Mary. I love you Mom and Dad. Looking forward to seeing you again soon.  Hope you are healing well and have a great time with Suzy and Chloe in Italy this Fall. I'm so happy for Chloe. Who better to experience Italy with than your Italian Pop Pop!