So back to father figures. I actually started thinking about this blog way earlier in the week. Usually I just sit down and let my fingers do the walking but this one I actually thought a lot about, made some notes and well here we go...We each have a biological father to which we all have different experiences: good, bad, love, hate, great loss, unknown, happiness and joy, sadness and anger, indifference or a mixed-bag. Some are lucky in life to get more than one father through adoption or marriage or both. This blog however, is about those men and more. It's about the men in my life that whether or not they realized it have made an impact on me and have taught me some significant lessons. A few may read this, most will not but I still owe them my gratitude and this is one way of showing it. I hope for the rest I have been smart enough and thoughtful enough along the way to say thanks.
Okay, first up Dave Hammonds...most of you are like, "who the heck is that?" Well, to some he is also known as "D.P.H." or "Daddy," for most he is the General Manager of The Olive Garden in Springfield, Missouri where I worked in college. Dave is a good, honest, hard-working fellow who was privileged enough to have me as an employee when I was probably at the height of my independent, howling-at-the-moon stage. We had a love/"Miss Hill (my maiden name), I need to see you in my office," relationship. I sold a lot of glasses of vino and Chicken Parmesan sub fettuccine alfredo's for "Daddy" and for a college student I pulled a lot of hours...but Dave also put up with a lot of my college student crap. I'm sure it will bring tears of hysterical laughter to my best friend Lindsay's eyes remembering the day she waited outside the O.G. while I was having one of my meetings with "Daddy." We were both pretty sure I was going to get the axe, but instead Dave and I had a chat about how I was a good kid and good at my job but that I needed to show up on time. That was my problem back then (not that I still don't function on "island time" most days) I wasn't very punctual for my shifts. I was always within a few minutes of the time I was scheduled for, but I was a trainer and in a leadership position and one should be on time for work, period. In fact, it didn't matter then, and it doesn't matter now what position that you are in...Dave taught me that 90% of life really is showing up on time. If you show up, and do your job, you've got a good chance at succeeding. Thanks Dave.
Okay, so while I'm thinking about those years in the Ozarks I can't help but think about Jerry Gray. Jerry is my best friend Lindsay's step dad. I spent a lot of time with Lindsay and her family in those few short years and one can not help but to develop a fondness for Jerry. Jerry taught me two very important things: the world needs more people with a servant heart, and not everything can be flushed down the toilet. Surprisingly, in one particular instance these two went hand-in-hand. Jerry's a nice guy who is soft spoken (until you get him talking) and has a big smile and a big heart. He was always doing nice things for people, especially those less fortunate. I remember one time when Lindsay and I were visiting her family in Joplin and Jerry had recently cooked a turkey for needy family and had taken it to them. While we were there Lindsay's mom Kathy let Jerry know that he needed to get the pan with the carcass and drippings out of the garage and throw it away (they are very neat, clean people with a nice home and to this day I still have no idea why Jerry had left a turkey carcass rotting in the garage). Anyway, I think Jerry must have thought it best not to throw the drippings in with the trash. Instead, he decided to flush the rancid juices down the toilet that was just inside the house in the hall bathroom near the garage. The funny thing was that no one knew that that is what had happened. All we knew was that we heard Jerry come in, flush the toilet and go back to the garage. What followed was a stench reserved for dumpsters, garbage trucks and landfills finding its way to every corner of their beautiful home. My favorite part was the sheepish look on Jerry's face when he came back in the house and realized what had happened, he had basically let off a stink bomb in his own home. Yes, to this day I am very mindful of smells and much to my chagrin I have the nose of a bloodhound but more importantly I have always felt that the world needs more people with a heart like Jerry's. People who just role up their sleeves and do nice things for others without being asked and without the need for praise or thanks. We should still be sure to thank them anyway, so thanks Jerry for being you, I'm working on being a better me.
Speaking of step-fathers I feel the need to include my step-dad, Dewey. Dewey has taught me an important lesson in love. Let me try to explain. I have a big, extended family so I am well aware that sharing the same blood-line is not the definition or end-all to familial bliss. I also am very close to several people that I refer to affectionately to as "aunts" or "uncles" with whom I share no DNA and no marriage ties but consider family. I've also heard the saying "I love them as if they were my own" (meaning of the same blood). But I had never really seen that up close until I met Dewey. It's not the love that he has for Kristin and Dan who are his adopted children, my sister and brother. I know his love for them is just as deep as the love that my parents have for me. It's the love that he has for my children Campbell and Jack. I am still amazed at love that Dewey has for my children, his grandchildren. And they are his grandchildren. Maybe some of you are saying, "well, of course," but not so quick. I know people who have what they refer to as "step-grandchildren," and even though they are very fond of them there is still a line there, a separation. It's hard to explain but Dewey loves my kids as if I were the daughter he's always had. Does that make sense? I think it's a rare thing for people to love like this. You here stories about adults who find out that they were raised unknowingly by a step-parent whom they thought was their biological parent and treated them "as their own." Maybe I think it's rare and special because in our society the reverse is sadly, and so often more the norm...I'm really not sure, but what I do know is that it is the greatest gift he can give my children, his unconditional, undifferentiated love. He is their grandpa and they adore him and for that I am grateful. Thanks Dewey.
Well, it's time to write about grandfathers and I want to start with my Grandpa Hill, or Papa (pronounced Paw-Paw). My Grandpa Hill passed a couple years back and he had some really great qualities...he was kind of like Jerry in that he did nice things for people just because he thought it was the right thing to do. He didn't have a lot but he was always giving a lot. One particular thing that he gave this world was laughter. He taught me that laughter is a gift you can give to others. He was a prankster and a clown and I think that he was in agreement with Shakespeare that all the world is a stage. He was just downright silly. It didn't matter if he was with family in his home or hanging out with my Grandma Hill at Wal-mart he was always making someone laugh. One of his favorite audiences was children and one of his favorite props were his false teeth. Imagine being a small child sitting in a grocery cart in the check-out line of Wal-mart, probably mad and maybe crying because your mom has said no to everything you have asked for, and now you have a wall of candy staring you down with no hope of partaking in the chocolaty-goodness, and you've pretty much lost all hope of happiness and are facing a miserable car ride home, and you look to the check out lane next to you and there is this old goofy guy trying to get your attention, and all of a sudden he spits out his teeth. Forgive my run-on sentence but that's funny...and that was my Grandpa Hill. He didn't take himself too seriously and he wouldn't allow most people to either. He had a great self-deprecating humor that made people laugh and put them at ease. He was complete with funny little quotable saying like "We're off like a heard of turtles." He was even know to hide in a closet for extended periods of time just so he could jump out and scare the daylights out of someone when they thought the house was empty. One may scoff at such actions and think them too juvenile and too silly but I think the world would be a better place if more people thought silliness a virtue. In fact, I'm pretty sure the sun doesn't shine as brightly since he's been gone. He loved life and he loved to laugh and he loved making others laugh, too. When I actually think about it, and I would encourage you to think about it too, that's a pretty rare gift. I hope my kids learn how to be silly from me, I really do. Thanks Grandpa, I miss you.
Well, let's keep talking about grandfathers and talk about my Grandpa Russ. Even though he passed when I was going in to high school I have some really great memories of him. What he taught me about life that I would like to share with you though is this: you don't have to save the world to be someones hero, you just have to be yourself. My Grandpa Russ was a electrician by trade who got up every morning and put his pants on one leg at a time just like every other man. But it was the way he carried himself, and the respect that he commanded and that he showed others that made him larger than life. I remember being a child and sleeping on the couch or floor in the living room and waking up really early in the morning when Grandpa was going to work. I stayed quiet, pretending to be asleep and just watched what was his quiet morning routine of putting on his work boots and picking up his lunch box and thermos and walking out the door. It may seem mundane, but at the time (and I "feel" this way now) I felt like I was secretly witnessing a super-hero don his mask just before he goes off to save the world. He was a hard-working, down-to-earth man who loved his family and loved life. What you saw was what you got and he made no apologies...and he didn't put up with anyone's bull-#@%!. He was a good, authentic person and to everyone who knew him and loved him that made him 10 feet tall and bullet-proof. Have you ever felt like that about someone?
I am very blessed to have a large family and another grandfather; we call him Grandad Bob. Grandad has worked hard all his life, he has lots of great stories and anecdotes and one could sit and listen and learn a great deal from him. By the world's standards he is a successful person. Yes, he has a lot of great qualities to be emulated: he is wise because he chooses to learn, he is generous because he has been blessed and it is the right thing to do, he is a nice guy who is un-assuming and thoughtful, but I think that it is his integrity that I admire most. I'm not saying he is perfect, and he would be the first to tell you that he has made some mistakes. I'm just saying that Grandad is who he says he is, and he IS as good as his word. He also expects the same from others, which I think makes some people uneasy because most of the world doesn't operate that way. Most of us are a lot of talk and face time and incessant talking (myself included) and I think we would all do better and be better if we would slow down and make sure that how we act and what we do matched all of our talking. That, in turn, would probably lead to less talking and more listening and more understanding and ahhhh, what a wonderful world it would be. However, because integrity is not perfection in the sense that being honest with people( and ourselves) is not always what they(or we) want to hear means that people with integrity aren't always liked all the time. I think that is the problem with most of us people-pleasing types, we want everyone to like us, so sometimes we bend...when you write it out, and you say it out loud phony is really just phony, huh? Ouch. Well anyway, I respect Grandad for his integrity and I hope someday I will be know for mine...always a work in progress.
When I think about men with great integrity I also think about Larry Lawson. Larry was the father of my best friend from high school Tracy, who tragically passed away a few years back. Larry was a great man. He was quiet and kind, he was a great husband and father and he served God and others and his community. I spent a lot of time growing up in Larry's house but we were not particularly close in the sense of talking or interacting, but he still taught me some great lessons. You see, Larry's actions always spoke louder than his words. One of the greatest things that always impressed me about Larry was the patience with which he approached everything and how he always tried to do things right the first time. I remember watching him build the front porch addition to his house, and I remember how meticulous he was measuring and re-measuring before he made any chalk-lines or cuts, or drove a single nail. It took him quite a while to build that addition but when he was finished it was solid, quality work. It is still standing and I'm sure it will be a sound structure for years to come because Larry made sure it was done right. That was something he passed on to his daughters, too. Lisa and Tracy were always smart girls, but it was more than their intellect that made them great in high school, college, and grad school...they always worked hard, took their time and did things right the first time. What a great legacy to leave to your children and your children's friends.
That brings me to two other important father figures in my life. Two men whose legacies have a daily impact on my life, but whom I have never met...Allen Crabb and Roger Jones. Allen was Chad's father and Roger was my best friend Lindsay's dad. I never had the pleasure of meeting either of them but they have both taught me an important lesson: who you are as a human being and the memories made are the only legacy you really leave your children. This impacts them more than wealth or power because it leaves a deeper impression and shapes who they become. When I hear Chad and Lindsay talk about their fathers and who they were, and tell stories about them it all makes sense because I can see the qualities they describe in Chad and Lindsay. The good qualities that I hope will be carried on, like the passing of a torch to Campbell and Jack, and Tatum and Dalton (Lindsay's children). Qualities like honesty and working hard to achieve your goals, and compassion and a love for learning. The gift of ourselves and our love is the legacy we leave our children.
Well of course I am going to conclude by writing about the lessons my own father has taught me, which in 30 years there have been more than a few...but I would like to highlight two very important ones. The first one being to always say "I love you." That it is important to tell the people in our lives whom we care about the most that we love them. I guess it wasn't until my father was an adult that my grandfather verbalized his love for my dad, and this had a profound impact on him and the whole family. I've also known of other families where people didn't say "I love you," and even though they felt that there was love, there was still an unbelievable sadness and doubt that loomed. Anyway, I grew up in a home where we all confirmed our love for each other verbally on a daily basis, and I always felt loved and never doubted. Chad and I tell Campbell and Jack every day that we love them, and now as Campbell's speech is growing exponentially it has been one of the great joys of my life to hear her say, "I love you, Mommy..."
Most importantly my father has taught me that there is a God in heaven who created me and loves me just the way that I am. Yes, it's not a funny story but it is the most profound thing in my life...I think that is the greatest legacy that my father will leave me, the legacy to connect me with my faith and his love and the memories that we share. Happy Father's Day Daddy, dads, grandfathers and "father figures." Thank you for the lessons lived and taught, and for giving of yourselves whether you were aware of it or not. I love you.
