“When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.”
Well I've never been a boy, but I can certainly appreciate the author's sentiment. At 31, I'm astonished at how much I still need my father. I thought I was supposed to be all grown up and stuff by now, but in times of big decision-making or crisis, I look upon the long-distance phone charges with fondness because most of them are "Dad calls."
I have many friends without fathers today and I'm keenly aware that could just as easily be me. I'm sure I would be lost without him and so while I've still got him, I hold him as tightly as I can from my long-distance perch here in Canada.
Today I ranted on Facebook and Twitter about our vapid shout-outs to our dads via social media platforms. I'm sure I insulted a few folks who don't know me well, but my point is this: if your father was good to you, worked his butt off to put a roof over your head, took second place on presents every Christmas and Father's Day, and invested in the person you are today, then I don't believe an updated Facebook status will cut it.
If I could be, I'd be with the rest of my siblings in southwestern Oklahoma today, hiking up the worn-out and modest mountain tops as my dad leads the way to our favorite spots growing up as kids--avoiding wild buffalos, cactus pricks and sunburns, because Mom will ask why we didn't put on sunscreen--all the while celebrating life with him and relishing the view at the top of the climb. We've done it dozens of times and know the trails by heart, but somehow it never gets old.
Dad, all my life you told me I could be anything I wanted to be, and I was naive enough to believe it. I think I'm well on my way to my own mediocre mountain climb, but I'm certain one of my greatest achievements is being cherished by you.
Me and dad at the back of Notre Dame in Paris, May 2011