My father is no longer physically with us, but my celebration of him this coming weekend will be rooted in memories and awe of a spirit that sticks with all his children and grandchildren.
While unspoken, we grew up understanding that caring for others was a basic tenet in his life. From an early age, we learned about Dad’s time as a bomber pilot in WWII when in his early 20s, on two separate occasions he chose to coax his critically damaged aircraft back to friendly territory rather than let one or two crew members who were so seriously injured they couldn’t jump stay with a ship that was doomed to crash.
He didn’t take that action to receive accolades. He did that because others’ lives might be saved. In the end his actions resulted in him receiving two individual Distinguished Flying Cross Awards.
As a teenager, I watched him clean road gravel and dirt from the legs of two young bikers who were a bit too rambunctious as they rounded a curve and ended up on the roof of our summer cabin on Fall River Road. I was impressed that he was as gentle and caring with those strangers as he was with us when we were injured.
We learned that perseverance in times of total uncertainty is critical to a positive outcome. Once again, our early knowledge about managing those times came with finding out about Dad’s 32nd and final mission in WWII. On his way back to base Dad’s plane was shot down over the Zuiderzee in Holland and he was taken prisoner by the Nazis. He spent the next nine months in Stalag Luft III.
Upon his release he returned to the family ranch in Northeastern Colorado, working with his family as they built a successful cattle operation spanning acreage in both Morgan and Adams counties. In 1965, after moving to Estes Park, he used that same inner strength to beat the grim reaper when medicine couldn’t help.
His lessons in perseverance have helped me get through tough times. While Dad didn’t lecture, if asked he would provide advice. The year I found college to be less than satisfying just happened to coincide with the time Dad drove 550 miles to be with me during Fathers Weekend. It gave me the opportunity to float the idea of accepting a job I had been offered, but never applied for. “Stick with college,” he encouraged me. “Then you’ll have many more choices.” I definitely had to persevere to get the degree, but he was so right. Accepting his advice led to a job in Chicago with a company owned by Time, Inc. that has led to every other professional opportunity I’ve enjoyed since.
My father’s immediate family wasn’t large, but his mother had seven siblings and they all lived nearby. There were frequent gatherings where everyone got together, made music (trumpet, guitar, piano, clarinet, violin), and ate delicious food. Along with his older brother who also was a prisoner in Stalag Luft III (that’s a whole other story), thoughts of the family buoyed his spirit when he was a prisoner of war. We know Dad’s war experiences were far more complex than he shared, but we’re also aware that after returning from duty, being around family was the one place he felt safe.
I’ve often said my siblings and I had to learn to be friends because growing up 15 miles from the nearest grocery store meant there wasn’t anyone else to play with. Even had there not been a war that touched our family so deeply, we learned by example that family is important. Family is to be cherished. Family is to be nurtured.
As I watch younger people stand in front of greeting card displays giggling as they read clever messages singing the praises for dads because they put gas in our cars, mow the lawn, take out the trash, and do any number of sundry chores around the house, I too am a bit amused. However, I never purchased one of those. They just didn’t sound like my father.
As my family members know, I’ve never been one to reach for the beauty cards with sentimental messages, so I never paid for one of those either. Humor is ever so much more fun.
I just don’t think the card makers have found a way to use messages depicting caring for others, perseverance, and cherishing family in a humorous manner to say, “Happy Father’s Day” to those still with us, and those who live so vividly in our minds.
LOVE YOU! is the best I can do.
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