Fathers are indeed special and treasured, especially when
they remind you of your family history and how important that is to understand the
significance of who we are and who we come from. My father’s family descended from eight
generations of entrepreneurial, creative, resourceful, talented, respected people. He grew up in a loving home that taught him
the value of striving to do your best.
He was surrounded by loving grandparents, aunts and uncles and a Father
who taught him the value of civic duty.
Education was always a priority, so homework always came before his
chores. His outgoing personality
naturally led to leadership positions, even in grade school. He excelled in school and sports and when he
returned from serving in the Army, he joined the American Legion to give back
to his community where he served as Post Commander.
When my father entered the room and held out his hand to
shake yours, it was authentic and sincere, and you knew that you just met a new
friend. He would light up the room with
his smile and charm and make you feel like you were the most important person
in the room when he would start a conversation with you. We used to kid him that he was always “running
for office,” because he was sincerely interested in everyone. Morrie grew up in the generation of
patriotism and love for country which eventually led him to a lifetime of serving
his community and veterans returning from service. When there was a project or an event to plan,
he was right there to gather the troops and get the job done. Hard work was nothing to shy away from
because he was taught that hard work always works.
Sadly, our conversations ended five years ago and with this Father’s
Day, I struggle to try to explain to him, what has been happening in the
world. In better times, we would be
celebrating Father’s Day together and enjoying each other’s company. He would be telling us yet another story from
his early days that never ceased to amaze me, because I was always learning
something new from him, even towards the end of his life. I had the presence of mind and the pleasure
of recording his oral history along with my siblings. While I had prepared a barrage of questions
to ask him, I was in no way prepared for the level of detail that his razor-sharp
mind could bring up from over 70 years in the past. If an anecdote brought up a name from his grade
school days or his colorful neighborhood, he would go on at length about that person’s
family members, where they lived, what professions the parents had, etc. It was obvious that he had trained his mind
early on to remember even the names of his teachers, principal, coaches and
neighbors.
His recall was almost newspaper accurate with its’ clarity. Back in the day, it was common for aunts, uncles, sisters, and grandparents to live next door or across the street or around the corner from each other. This rich fabric of family ties helped shape his childhood and early adulthood. He instilled in me a thirst for knowledge and understanding. He delighted in my family and celebrated the relationships with my husband and sons.
His recall was almost newspaper accurate with its’ clarity. Back in the day, it was common for aunts, uncles, sisters, and grandparents to live next door or across the street or around the corner from each other. This rich fabric of family ties helped shape his childhood and early adulthood. He instilled in me a thirst for knowledge and understanding. He delighted in my family and celebrated the relationships with my husband and sons.
There are the little things I remember that he taught me as a
child that I did not understand at the time but eventually learned to
appreciate. As a little girl, he would
take my sister and I to visit friends and family so that we could stay
connected to our cousins, etc. We were
always dressed in matching dresses, hair combed in ponytails when my father
would walk us around the gathering saying hello to family friends,
grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.
We were bashful and did not know how to receive or accept a compliment
very well. I will never forget what my
Father told us, “You will have to learn how to receive a compliment
graciously” and not run and hide under the kitchen table. The first time Father's Day was held in June was in 1910. A woman called Sonora Smart Dodd was an influential figure in the establishment of Father's Day. Her father raised six children by himself after the death of their mother. This was uncommon at that time, as many widowers placed their children in the care of others or quickly married again. Father's Day was officially recognized as a holiday in 1972 by President Nixon. Fast-forward to Father’s Day 2020, due to the COVID-19 virus, we remain in quarantine and unable to gather with our families to celebrate our Dads together. Fathers still need to be remembered and recognized for the important role they had in shaping our lives. They mentored us, fed us, disciplined us, guided us, encouraged us, loved us, taught us, and treasured us. Our fathers were our strength and protected us from danger even when the fear was only imaginary.
Daddy read us bedtime stories and tucked us into bed and later, taught us how to drive, he introduced us to culture and took us to our first movies at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre in downtown Los Angeles. Dads are special in every sense of the word and there is not a day that goes by that I do not think of many of our conversations together over a cold beer and a taco. He lived his life with purpose and meaning, which naturally mirrored his favorite Native American Prayer:
Do all the good you can
With all the means you can
In all the ways you can
To all the people you can
For as long as you can
I miss his voice, his smile, his quick
wit, his laughter, and his company. I
am my father’s daughter and so immensely proud to have had the world’s best Dad
to teach me how to be a human being. Happy
Father’s Day Pops, I love you Mucho, your Lazybonz.
What's your favorite memory of your father lets us know in the comments section below.
What's your favorite memory of your father lets us know in the comments section below.
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Beautiful story. My dad was a supreme introvert, so having a conversation was hard. However, I owe my love of tennis to my dad who put a racket in my hand then drove me to the local park for lessons. A many of very few words, but a lot of action.
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