It’s amazing how much I remember about my father. Even though I was only eight when he died I have been able to piece together my memories of him into a more adult vision of who he was as a person. Perhaps because he was a creature of habit it has been easier to view him with the eyes of reality rather than only the childhood admiration that I had for him.

My father was a young man who faithfully went to work each day to care for his family. Ours was a typical nineteen fifties arrangement in which he brought home the income and my mother kept the home fires burning. We had a good life because he had worked hard to earn a college degree in mechanical engineering, but even I noticed his dissatisfaction with the work he was doing. I am rather certain that he moved from job to job hoping to find a way to use his knowledge meaningfully. Working in the oil and gas business, which was the most common route for mechanical engineers, was not challenging enough for him, nor did it feel like something that would make a difference in the world. The only time I saw him animated about his work was when he spoke about the potential of changing the salt water of the ocean into potable water that might be used for humankind. 

My father had so many talents that I suppose it was difficult for him to decide what he really wanted out of life. He was so incredibly well educated that he was able to discuss literature, history, philosophy, science, mathematics, music, architecture, art and even sports with the knowledge and confidence of an expert. Sometimes I imagine that there were two sides to him the artistic one that played to his greatest joys and the practical one that he used to care for his family. That those two aspects of who was were in conflict seems rather certain to me in retrospect.

Daddy would leave early in the morning and return each evening at a fairly regular hour. He liked to use the time before dinner to wind down from the day’s challenges. He would invariably put one of his favorite classical records on the turntable and then stretch across the living room couch with the evening newspaper or the most recent book that he was devouring. If I or one of my brothers came around vying for his attention he usually gave it to us in the form of lessons on whatever he had just finished reading about. He took adult themes and explained them the way even a little one might comprehend them. I was often exposed to literature that should have been above my understanding but my father nonetheless found ways to make learning so easy. 

My father liked to talk about what was happening in the world at large during dinner. He was never political so I have no idea if he was conservative or liberal, Republican or Democrat. Instead he talked in generalizations about current events and often offered what he considered to be sage advice to me and my brothers. Given our young ages I now laugh at his assurance that we were not too young to hear about topics that few of our peers even knew existed. 

He was a forward thinking man who was always bringing in new inventions, new discoveries, new philosophies. We were often the first in our extended family to purchase the latest appliances and cars. I vividly recall when the first television I had ever seen was delivered to our home. It was life changing for all of us and became a nightly way of sharing even more time with my father who was addicted to comedy of every kind. While others might have been watching dramas or variety shows or westerns my father and I caught all of the comedies, at least until it was time for me to go to bed. In retrospect I suppose that I heard some jokes that were a bit above my pay grade as as five, six, seven or eight year old but I was so naive then that I only laughed because my Daddy was filling the air with his chuckles. 

My father had been an outstanding student. I see that even more clearly now than when he was alive. The beauty of sites like Ancestry.com have allowed me to see his junior high and high school yearbooks. In those annuals I realize that he was active in clubs of every sort and even played football for a time. He won the American Legion award in the eighth grade and graduated from high school with honors. He was a perfectionist in his work and in his devotion to our family. 

My father loved to travel and he took me and my brothers all over the United States. He was working on visiting all forty eight of the states that existed before he died. He took photos of me in museums and at historical sites from the time I was an infant in a baby carriage. He was happiest when he was seeing new places and excitedly teaching us about what we had seen. 

Just before my father died he lectured me to do my best in school. I had admittedly slacked off a bit and he had taken note of my lack of attention to my studies. He urged me to set goals and work hard and become the best of myself. He did not lecture. I saw his words as a sign of his love. When he died I became dedicated to carrying out the challenges that came before me. I suppose that I even became a teacher because somehow that is how I saw my father, a loving and exciting teacher who explained so much about the world to me. 

I still feel such a closeness to my father. When I travel I think of how much he would have enjoyed the places that I have visited. When I read a good book I wish I had the opportunity to discuss it with him. When I have to push myself beyond what I think I can do and then succeed I silently thank him for his sage advice. Isn’t it amazing how one person might have so much influence on a child that he lives on for decades as a guiding light. That is my father who lives in me even now. How lucky I have been.