Running In Place

Last night we attended a ceremony to see my Dad’s installation as Commander of his American Legion post.

Ever since he retired, 9 or so years ago, he’s really put his heart and soul into the community, working with the Legion and with the Boy Scouts. 

It was nice to see him recognized.  He’s a guy who would never ask anyone else to work harder than he would work himself.  He’s got an affable good humor and genuineness.  He’s got the sensibility that comes from growing up in a tiny house with no indoor plumbing, in a tiny town smack in the middle of the country – from working hard all his life – in the Army during the war, as a housebuilder, a long-haul trucker, a carpet layer, a warehouse foreman, and probably some other things in between that I don’t even know about.  Boys and dogs are instantly drawn to him.  He’s 6′ 6″ tall, but when I was little I remember he drove a Karmann Ghia for a short time - possibly the only time he drove something other than a pick-up truck.  He eventually gave the sports car to my mom.  He and my mother split when I was 2 but he still called her Babes whenever he came to pick me up.  He still calls me Babes too, even though I’m his nearly 40 year old kid.  When my mother was dying, he dressed in a suit and came to see her.  I’ll never forget how it felt to see them together one last time.  I left them alone and I don’t know what they talked about but it was probably good memories.  They had always had a tremendous affection and respect for each other that transcended marriage and divorce.  My Dad has been married to my step-mom for 25 years now.  He raised her son from the time the boy was 5 – that’s how he got into scouts.  Thanks to Dad, my step-brother eventually became an Eagle Scout.  My step-mom has been the coordinator, planner, and encourager of all Dad’s pursuits.  With her financial saavy, she was able to make it possible for both of them to retire early.  For nearly every activity he’s involved in, she’s right beside him doing it too. 

 Thanks Sue

Being at the ceremony, seeing the respect and goodwill his fellow Legionnaires obviously feel for him, has got me feeling reflective about his life (and consequently, my own).  Thinking of all the times I fell away and didn’t call him or show up for visits and he welcomed me back with no lecture or guilt trip – the first time I drank and my friends ditched me and he came and picked me up and never told Mom, the first time I had a hickey and he never freaked or called me out on it – just acted like the bandana wrapped around my neck, like some Hee Haw reject, was perfectly normal.  He never pulled that overprotective, controlling father act that, I think, alienates kids right at a time when they need to feel accepted.  He just quietly, sometimes helplessly, waited – waited for me to come back around, waited for me to send up a flare, waited for me to figure out what was right for me.  I don’t see him as being lenient – there was not a desire to spoil or please me.  Moreso, I think he is patient and he is present, and seems to have an inherent understanding that all things will come of their own time.  Swedish Lutheran to the core.     

I think he’s going to make a great Commander.  And, although he would likely never consider taking a prideful moment, I am proud as hell of him.