Play It Forward

Yesterday, May 27th was the nineteenth anniversary of my Father's death. Strange thing about the death of a family member, some times it seems as if  I shared a conversation with Dad just days ago but it mostly seems forever when we last talked. I seldom shed tears any longer but I sure do have a heart ache at times; usually in those mid-night hours when sleep is difficult. When I reflect about my Dad, I am satisfied that I maximized the father-son relationship; we were close and he knew of my love and respect. It is dangerous to share thoughts about deceased  love ones because one often makes the love one bigger in death than they were in life; I continue with that thought in mind.

My most precious memories of my Dad were those times, as a young nine/ten year old boy, I would eagerly await his coming home from Monsanto Chemical Company (East St. Louis) where he worked in the late 1940's. I hurried through my supper eager to play catch or shoot baskets in the backyard; Any time I could compete with my Dad was the greatest of times. I often had to wait until Dad helped Mom with dishes. She would wash and he would dry. He was always playful with Mom at those moments. There was no doubt about how much they loved each other; what a secure comforting feeling for a child.

I suppose that there were many kids my age (back then) that enjoyed competing in backyard games with Dad. As I grew older and overcame some physical awkwardness, I began making those contest with Dad closer and closer. One day when we raced each other to the telephone pole down the alley, I won...it was the first race of hundreds that I won against Dad; it was a feeling I did NOT relish as I thought I would. He was my hero, a giant of a man. The victory held no warmth.

"Hey boy, shape-up." "Any job worth doing is worth doing right." "If you are wrong, say your sorry; if the person does not accept sorry, then dig in for the fight." "I'm proud of you but don't be satisfied; you can reach deeper and DO BETTER." Those are just a few quotes from my father. I can close my eyes and hear those reminders and encouragements. Oh, how I appreciate his blueprint for life.

Last week, I watched a father and young son playing catch beyond my backyard fence at the nearby Catholic Grade School. I stopped my work for a moment and listened to their conversation. It brought back a flood of memories. I thought to myself,whether the lad ever plays the sport of baseball is not the important thing. I just hope their moments together become treasured...it will serve them well until the end of their days.

A footnote opinion: I believe that the automatic dishwasher should be outlawed; perhaps couples sharing the 'wash/dry' gig would be less likely to ever divorce.