On Father's Day we honor fathers and the role they play in our lives. I was fortunate to have had a loving and kind father. That isn't to say he was perfect, far from it. But the one thing that was as steady the North Star was that he loved his children and mourned that he could not be a father to his first born, my half-sister Susan.
What I remember most about him was his humor--he loved to laugh, tease and rough house. Light was in his broad smile and mischievous laugh. I often tell my mom that her children enjoy comedy so much because they were raised with a first class comic duo with my mom playing Martin to my dad's Lewis, Abbott to his Costello. The comedy of Ray Ramono in Everybody loves Raymond pretty much sums up the comedy of our household. But where there is light, as Robin Williams has shown us, there is also darkness. The two sides walking together side by side like the two faces of Janus. Over the years, I have come to appreciate what my father suffered. I am thankful that the light was always in greater measure that the dark. But it is the darkness that has allowed me to know my father as a man, rather than the larger than life superhero that I considered him to be as a child. Sometimes the understanding that our parents are fallible people is jarring and hard to reconcile as we grow into adulthood; but it is this other side that has given me insight into the depths of his love, his compassion and unwavering moral compass.
I am proud to be my father's daughter. I see humor in the mundane as he did. I love witty repartee and can laugh at my own foibles. I too, feel deeply, perhaps too deeply as my mother once worried aloud; but I have a more balanced self-awareness, so I do not suffer from the depths. I see sorrow and it allows me a deep unwavering empathy, but I choose to seek out joy. I find it everywhere.
Last week, my mother reminisced how my father got me into a massive amount of trouble when I was just learning to talk. He recorded it so we had it on an audio reel for years. We were at home in Houston, on the audio recording my mother comes into the room, with some prompting I show off the new word my dad taught me: Dammit. What my mother says, Dammit, I repeat. She tells me that if I say it again she will spank me--Dammit I respond. She comes over to swat me but I tell her to Stop it DAMMIT--My dad hooting with laughter in the background.
I frequently recall the two winter vacation road trips I took with my dad as a college student to visit family in Texas. We had such a good time making fun of my mom behind her back--and later telling her about it--laughing at ourselves for our serious lack of direction and telling each other stories. The bonds we created over the hours of car time remain strong.
It wasn't always easy living with a funny guy but there was always a laugh to be had in there somewhere.
Earlier this week, I was at the beach in Santa Monica. I became enchanted watching a father and daughter in the water. Their joy became my joy. The father holding on tight to his daughter as they jump wave after wave. Her laughter rung clear up to my position on the pier. I am certain that she will carry the memory of the day forever in her heart. I only wish that I knew who they were so that I could give this photo--my favorite from the day.
