THE BELATED HERO

I think for the first 11 years of my life my father was almost just a polite stranger in our house.  To my young mind he seemed to be gone more than he was home, thanks to a career in the Navy.  I knew he worked on submarines, and then later on sub tenders, but I didn't ask many questions back then.  Later, when he retired, I didn't care.  By that time I was hitting my teen years and it no longer mattered in my world.  Life for the moment was all about me.

I had a mission, it was to defy authority and free the oppressed teenagers, starting with those who lived in my house.  I had learned from my friends at school that I had an opinion, and that it superceded any other opinions, regardless of the chain of command.  Unfortunately for me my father, with his strict upbringing and disciplined military training, totally disagreed with my new found ideology and thus began the dark ages.  In my defense I honestly believed that I was justified in my persuit of self righteousness.  At one point my father gave me the nickname 'Butt-in-ski'.  Can you say 'grounded'?  Trust me when I say that my father could.  I think I spent half my high school years confined to the house, or in the case of worse offenses, to my room! 

After my graduation I didn't realize it but I was slowly being molded into a more responsible member of society.  My parents constantly volunteered me to help with various Scouting events that taught me not only to respect authority, but also how to earn it.  My father helped me find my dream job as a typesetter and graphic artist at the local print shop.  He drove me around town as I invested my first pay checks in a magical roundback acoustic guitar and my first camera, a Pentax K-1000 35 mm SLR with interchangeable lenses.  I didn't realize it at first, but the polite stranger who dared to oppress my individual freedoms was instumental in taking my dreams and turning them into reality.

The turning point came at my wedding reception, when my father and I danced for the first time in my memory.  I was already walking on clouds and was able to focus on only one face... that of my new husband... until my father took me in his arms.  I looked up and his words faded as I saw something in his eyes that I had never noticed before, pride and love.  And tears!  At the end of the dance he kissed my forehead and told me that he loved me.  And when I told him that I loved him too, I meant it more than I ever had before.

Today my father is a familiar voice on the telephone, he is inspirational emails in my mailbox, and a welcomed visitor to my house where he entrances his grandchildren with his exciting stories from the sea.  To my kids he is a hero and they listen in awe even when a particular tale is a little taller than the last time he told it.  I regret that I did not allow him the chance to be my hero when I was their age, but in retrospect I think he always was, I just didn't realize it at the time.

And I probably don't say this often enough, but I love you Dad.  Happy Father's Day.

The photo was taken in Scotland in 1971 when my father retired from the Navy.  From left to right, starting in the back:  My oldest sister Teresa (Lisa), 2nd oldest Naomi, Brian (Lisa's friend) Front:  Dad, Mom, brother George, Myself with my baby sister Davina infront of me, 3rd oldest Valorie.  In the foreground... some important Navy guy, probably the ship's commander.

======================================

(This is the comment my father left in my journal after reading this entry)

Dearest Daughter:

I had a hard time reading your "Tribute" because I couldn't see through the tears.  Mom was at my shoulder as we read from start to finish including the comments.  
I'm so very glad that the "Contagion of The Old Man of The Sea" did rub off on you early or later.  That's what Fathers are for, sweetie.  Glad I could steer you on toward where you are today.  My job feels almost completed now, but not quite ready to quit just yet.

I Love you too, my very own "DORN"
Comment from ambassadorsinte - 6/14/05 11:49 AM