Good Times, Great Oldies

Yesterday, I went to Houston to visit an ailing church member. I took with me a man who is a good friend of the patient and her family. It was a day out of the office, on a Monday after a busy Sunday, so I was glad to be out, but also aware of the "while you were out" notes that would inevitably pile up. Amazingly, they did not.

My companion is a deacon in our church and a very fine man. Time passed quickly as we discussed cars, families, work, church, and life in general. He is a very pleasant man with a very generous spirit. (He bought lunch!)

As we traveled along, I thought of similarities between he and my own father. Both were in the same era. Both served in Air Force during the Korean conflict. Both married in mid 1950's and raised families. Both worked blue collar jobs in a manufacturing plant atmosphere. Both had affinities for automobiles. Both were good men, great providers, godly, and moral men. My friend told me he never heard his dad say he loved him. He told me his father would tell his mother he was proud of him and she would pass the word on. I thought of deja vu, since this is how my own father operated. Once, when he was going into surgery, I gathered up my courage and told him I loved him. It was the first time. He managed to murmur that he loved me also. That was a big breakthrough.

Amazingly, both men were extremely frugal. My friend won't buy a cellphone- he chooses to buy airtime to use one when he needs it- usually when he goes out of town. He also doesn't own a computer. My dad wouldn't own one either.

But I couldn't help but think of one difference: My father was a quiet man, not antisocial, but not very social. He worked his job, came home, did a few chores at the house, watched TV and read his paper. Not much conversation came from him. He was fair to me and cared for his family. But I never knew him as a friend I could share concerns with or ask for some advice. I just never felt comfortable doing that.

On the other hand, my traveling friend is very conversational. He noted that his wife said he talked too much. I found myself wishing that my father and I could have had a relationship like my friend and I have. I feel I can ask him for any sort of help and advice (and I have on occasion) and he would be glad to oblige. I thought (perhaps selfishly) "Why couldn't my dad have been like this?" Less withdrawn and a bit more open.

Then again, we could all make our parents over in our own image, can't we?

Ironically, just after I returned home, my own son called me to discuss a big opportunity and decision he is facing. I was glad he felt the freedom to call and get his father's perspective. I was glad I could be to him what I wished my father could have been more to me.

Fathers, take note.