Father's Day
My father is amazing all the time, not just one day a year, but I might as well use the time now to say something about him.
My dad taught me things that I'm still discovering I've learned. Whenever Spouseman tells me I'm like my dad, I view that as an enormous compliment. What did Dad teach me?
1) Hard work. You show up for that job. You don't take sick days--and if you have to, call in. If you have to quit the job, quit the job, don't just faff around and not show up for a few days. The only time I can really remember Dad not showing up for work was when he had a stroke in '91. Maybe another time when he had a bad cold. Other times he was like clockwork going to teach. Going to play the carillon from time to time downtown. Going to judge competitions. Staff meetings. Regional and National Music Teacher's Conventions.
2) Politics is not a bad word. Courtesy and civility will get you farther than giving people the cold shoulder. If you are in a positoin where you deal with the public, you smile and you greet people, and you try to remember their names. If you can't, own that, and ask again. Dad knew so many people, but it seemed more people knew him. This whole acquaintance thing was something I have marveled at for years with my dad. We joke about how if he were set down in Antarctica, someone would eventually walk up and say "Paul!" or "Professor Reed!" in tones of great joviality.
3) The value of Old School. My dad was born in 1934. In Iowa, on a farm. During the Depression. I used to think he was kind of a stuffed shirt (when I was 13), but I now know that the man is pure class. If he has a temper, I've hardly ever seen it. If he doesn't feel well, he rarely lets you know. He doesn't whine or bitch. He sucks it up and moves on, and does what needs to be done. He knows very well it's not all about him--and even if it is, he's not going to tell you.
4) Money ain't a thing. Well, it's more complicated than that. Don't blow money; if you can make do without foolish expenditures, do so--but at the same time, if someone needs help, that's what money is there for.
5) Duty, on the other hand, is a thing. I will never forget my teen self griping one day about travelling up to my grandparents'--we made this trek at least twice a year and I was usually bored to tears once I was there, despite bringing as many books as possible as well as my tunes--and my dad flat out said "It's your duty." Well, that shut me up. There is no counter to that argument that doesn't make you sound like a terrible person.
6) Music. Yes, my mom loves music too, but my dad had ALL THE MUSIC. This was when vinyl and turntables were still the main modality of recorded media. So there were shelves and shelves and shelves and stacks of classical music albums. Everything. Every single thing you could imagine in the field of classical music (although he was not a fan of Early Music). I was 9 before I ever listened to rock (although my mom did have a reel to reel player, and I remember sitting in the bathtub listening to Let It Be playing on that, but that was about as far as it got.) So I grew up on the very best Wagner (The Decca Ring, conducted by Solti), Stravinsky, Ravel's L'Enfant et les sortileges, Vaughn Williams, Debussy, Puccini, Mussorgsky, Smetana, Tchaikovsky, Strauss, etc, etc. That's formed a huge part of my life, as necessary and subtle as respiration.
I know I don't always live up to the standards he's embodied. But I thank God I've had them in my life to aspire to.
My dad taught me things that I'm still discovering I've learned. Whenever Spouseman tells me I'm like my dad, I view that as an enormous compliment. What did Dad teach me?
1) Hard work. You show up for that job. You don't take sick days--and if you have to, call in. If you have to quit the job, quit the job, don't just faff around and not show up for a few days. The only time I can really remember Dad not showing up for work was when he had a stroke in '91. Maybe another time when he had a bad cold. Other times he was like clockwork going to teach. Going to play the carillon from time to time downtown. Going to judge competitions. Staff meetings. Regional and National Music Teacher's Conventions.
2) Politics is not a bad word. Courtesy and civility will get you farther than giving people the cold shoulder. If you are in a positoin where you deal with the public, you smile and you greet people, and you try to remember their names. If you can't, own that, and ask again. Dad knew so many people, but it seemed more people knew him. This whole acquaintance thing was something I have marveled at for years with my dad. We joke about how if he were set down in Antarctica, someone would eventually walk up and say "Paul!" or "Professor Reed!" in tones of great joviality.
3) The value of Old School. My dad was born in 1934. In Iowa, on a farm. During the Depression. I used to think he was kind of a stuffed shirt (when I was 13), but I now know that the man is pure class. If he has a temper, I've hardly ever seen it. If he doesn't feel well, he rarely lets you know. He doesn't whine or bitch. He sucks it up and moves on, and does what needs to be done. He knows very well it's not all about him--and even if it is, he's not going to tell you.
4) Money ain't a thing. Well, it's more complicated than that. Don't blow money; if you can make do without foolish expenditures, do so--but at the same time, if someone needs help, that's what money is there for.
5) Duty, on the other hand, is a thing. I will never forget my teen self griping one day about travelling up to my grandparents'--we made this trek at least twice a year and I was usually bored to tears once I was there, despite bringing as many books as possible as well as my tunes--and my dad flat out said "It's your duty." Well, that shut me up. There is no counter to that argument that doesn't make you sound like a terrible person.
6) Music. Yes, my mom loves music too, but my dad had ALL THE MUSIC. This was when vinyl and turntables were still the main modality of recorded media. So there were shelves and shelves and shelves and stacks of classical music albums. Everything. Every single thing you could imagine in the field of classical music (although he was not a fan of Early Music). I was 9 before I ever listened to rock (although my mom did have a reel to reel player, and I remember sitting in the bathtub listening to Let It Be playing on that, but that was about as far as it got.) So I grew up on the very best Wagner (The Decca Ring, conducted by Solti), Stravinsky, Ravel's L'Enfant et les sortileges, Vaughn Williams, Debussy, Puccini, Mussorgsky, Smetana, Tchaikovsky, Strauss, etc, etc. That's formed a huge part of my life, as necessary and subtle as respiration.
I know I don't always live up to the standards he's embodied. But I thank God I've had them in my life to aspire to.