An Ode To Pops On Father's Day
My Dad is someone that people love to be around because he
lets them be who they are. As I get older I become increasingly aware of
how special a trait that is and how much it has influenced my life. I
don't think it's possible to overstate the the impact of someone letting
you be you. Of course who I am has changed, as it does for all
of us, as I continue to develop and grow. But from the very beginning when I wanted to be a chicken, to becoming a strong willed «read: pain in the
ass» teen who had a knack for finding and creating trouble, to changing into a
young adult who often chose fun and adventure over responsibility and
maturity to turning into the (somewhat) functioning adult I am today, my Dad
has let me be me. I've never once felt judged by him or the absence of
his support. Even in those very rare times that I've made bad decisions,
(I use the word 'rare' loosely)
my Dad still supported me.
I have an image, from my high school years, of my Dad in
the Holden house by the TV watching Rod Stewart's 'Forever Young' video.
He was dancing his little jig when he turned to me and said, 'Hey,
Dewey, have you heard this song? It's a good one.' At the time I think I
rolled my eyes and said something about the lameness of Rod Stewart. My
more sophisticated adolescent musical taste was heavily focused on the
offerings of Digital Underground or Jane's Addiction. And there it went. The moment passed. The song ended and we went about our day. It wasn't until I
was much older that the poignancy
of that moment hit me. Of course, like so much of life, I wish I could
have understood in the present why that song had spoken so much to my father. I wish my adolescent self had stopped and taken a moment to just be there with my Dad instead of worrying about whether my bangs would stay in a side feather or if my new sneakers were too white. But that's not how it works. I could be nothing but the adolescent I was. But if you're lucky, with time and life passing you can look back and relearn what mattered and what didn't. I'm thankful that my Dad is still around so I can let him know how often I reflect upon this particular song and that moment in the family room. Now, whenever I hear Forever Young on the radio, I
turn it up, I think of my Dad dancing by the TV and I usually cry
(Lies. I always cry.) Yes, I know that the song is not especially cool
nor is it obscure nor does it seem musically complex. But that's why
it's so fitting, because it doesn't have to be. It can be exactly what
is. There is one
sentence of the song in particular that continues to stand out to me,
like a question mark hanging in the air:
"And when you finally fly away I'll hoping that I served you well. For all the wisdom of a lifetime, no-one can ever tell."
Dad, I
think Rod mostly got it right with this song, but in this one part, at
least in how it applies to my life, he is wrong. Because when a thought
of you enters my mind, as it does from time to time, and I think about
your influence on me as a father, there is never a doubt of whether or
not you served me well. I hope you have a great Father's Day and keep waiting for that Porsche.
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