Dad - The Eternal Optimist

 

I recently attended a “Memoir Writing Group” sponsored by our county Arts Council. Below is the piece I wrote. It’s about my Dad so I’m posting it here as a Father’s Day tribute to him. It’s called “The Eternal Optimist”, which describes him very well. I love you, Dad!

My Dad is no stranger to hard times. He lost his Mom when he was 21. He happened to be living in Switzerland as a missionary at the time and didn’t learn of her death until the day of the funeral. It’s not like she would have been there if he’d rushed home and he felt that she would have wanted him to stay where he was. About ten years later, his youngest brother was forced off the road and killed in what was called an automobile homicide. His Dad passed away a year later from cancer.

Then there were the financial setbacks, like when he got a second mortgage on his home to loan his best friend $30,000. His friend never did pay him back but somehow the friendship survived. Several years later, while working as a stock broker, Dad was sued for 3 million dollars. His brokerage license was revoked during the investigation. The legal bills amounted to over $20,000. Eventually his brokerage license was reinstated as they could find no evidence of wrongdoing on his part. He always maintained that he had done nothing wrong, but he had bills to pay and a family to support so he’d long ago moved on to other jobs. He’s never been the type to sit around collecting food stamps.

Dad hasn’t escaped health problems. Some things were accidental, like the time most of his teeth were knocked out in a car accident shortly before his marriage. Other things were just unfortunate, like when he was diagnosed with colon cancer in 2003. When Dad called to tell me this news, I immediately broke down. But then he started saying things like, “I think this is a wonderful opportunity”, and “Everyone should be given a chance like this to look at their life with a new perspective.” Whatever Dad! I just want to be sad about it, okay? When they found out the cancer had spread to his lymph nodes, Dad didn’t change his tune. That’s when he started saying things like, “I’ll treat this to a point, but I’m not going to jump through hoops to spare my life. I don’t fear death.” Okay, thanks Dad, but I kind of like having you around! He did have surgery to remove the cancerous portion of his intestine and then went through a round of chemotherapy which, by the way, he said he’d never do again. He eats well and walks several miles a day and says he feels better than he has in 20 years.

Despite these trials and setbacks, Dad is an optimist. He always sees the glass as half full. More than once I’ve heard him say, “I refuse to worry about this.” On the other hand, I’ve heard my Mom say, “Dad refuses to worry about this so I have to do all the worrying for both of us!” While growing up I remember thinking Dad would be really upset about something only to find his “no sweat” attitude shining through. Take for instance the time I was driving his little car around and noticed some smoke coming out of the hood. In my limited understanding of cars, I passed it off as steam from the snow that was melting on the car. However when I got home and walked to the front of the car, I saw that the front grille was covered with black oil. I was scared as I walked in the house and said, “Dad, there’s something wrong with the car.” He followed me out, saw the oil, popped the hood, and calmly said, “It looks like we’ve lost the oil cap. No biggie. I’ll take care of it.” And that was the end of it.

Part of Dad’s optimism is a great sense of humor that took me several years to appreciate. My siblings and I were not allowed to date until we were 16. Right about the time my older sister turned 16, there was a rumor that if you wanted to ask her out, you had to have an interview with my Dad. One brave young man, accepting this rumor as truth, called and asked Dad when he could come for his interview. Dad, happy to humor him and torture his daughters, invited him over. My sister and I were horrified and I imagined how miserable I’d be throughout my dateless life! Following the date, my sister informed Dad that he would never do that again. And he didn’t. After that, what usually happened is that Dad would just chat with our date when they came to pick us up. They never knew they were being interviewed and I remember comments like, “Your Dad is cool!” as we left the house.

Dad loves his family and just wants them around him. I remember the time I was living in Columbus, Ohio with my young family. Dad had a business trip 3 ½ hours away from us. As soon as he got off the plane, he drove the 3 ½ hours to see us, spent the night, then drove the 3 ½ hours back in the morning. To him this 7 hour detour was no big deal. He just wanted to see his grandkids. Then there was the time we flew from Columbus to Utah without telling Dad we were coming. My sister arranged a family gathering at her house. When Dad arrived and saw that everyone was there, he didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the evening. He said it was the best surprise he’s ever had.

Years ago Dad told me that his dream was to buy a large plot of land, subdivide it and give each of the kids a lot so that we could all live on the same cul-de-sac. With my parents now living in Nevada, my siblings in Utah, and my little family in Illinois, that dream probably won’t come true. But it’s easy for me to pick up the phone and get a healthy dose of Dad’s optimism when I need his perspective. For example, we both own shares of the same stock and when I called to ask his opinion when it dropped in price, his response was, “It’s on sale! I just bought more!”

One of my kids was being silly the other day. I jokingly told her she gets that from her dad. She said, “Actually I get it from Grandpa because he’s always funny.” I hope all of my kids will have their grandpa’s optimism. It helps to make this world a happier, friendlier place!