Dad, remember when ……….

Whenever I watch interviews on TV with various “famous” people, it is always interesting to hear what they remember most about their relationship with their Dad. I remember a number of things about mine but one that always makes me smile is the memory of days spent in a small aluminum boat in the creeks of our rivers crabbing and shrimping. Now that I have sons of my own, I have often wondered what they might remember if asked when they become “rich and famous”. (Notice I said rich and famous. I am counting on my boys for my retirement.) Now I pride myself on being a pretty good dad. I have always tried to be fair with my sons, made sure they have what they need and often what they want, treated them with love and respect, and provided the necessary examples to produce men who will make the world a better place. Let’s start with my oldest son who is approaching his 22nd birthday. I can honestly say that I have never missed a practice, game, school meeting, or significant event in his life. I believe that family always comes first. My son would be quick to point out, however, that I was out of town on business for his 12th birthday. He will not recall that this was an isolated incident or that I sent him a really nice candy and balloon bouquet from San Francisco. He will not feel blessed that his dad has been present for all 20 other birthdays. He still will ask me “Dad, remember when you missed my 12th birthday?” I fear that will be his response when the reporter asks the question. “Well my dad was a pretty good guy but I never really got over the time he missed my birthday.” I will suddenly be exposed for the terrible dad that I am. My middle son has his won special memory of dear old dad. I must state for the record here that he was possessed by demons from the ages of 8 – 12. Anger him and he would trash his room to a degree worthy of a 70s hair band. This particularly memory is tied to a morning when he decided that he was not going to school. I was ready to leave to take him and then continue on to work. I promise you I tried every means possible to get him up and out. Pleading, threatening, dumping him off the bed with his mattress (not real proud of that one). He refused and further more would not respond to me at all. I finally stormed out of his room yelling and I quote “you’re going to give me a f**king heart attack. Now those who know me will be shocked. As was my son. I could tell by the snickers coming from under his covers. Instant memory created. “Hey dad, remember when I almost gave you a f**king heart attack?” The reporter will snicker along with my son while I will wait for social services to come and have me locked up. My youngest son’s brain is still in the pre-memory stage. I can look at this two ways, I have one last chance to be the dad who “made me the success I am” or I can accept my destiny to hear “Hey dad, remember when you ……………….”  Heaven help me!

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