My father is turning sixty-six tomorrow.
Yesterday he did the cutest thing. He called me to tell me he just ordered the Samsung Note 2 – the exact same phone I have. I had been talking up how great it is a few weeks back and he must have been listening. This is interesting because my father is not very technologically savvy. He’s no Luddite, but not exactly writing php in his spare time. He’s a dad. You know – types with two fingers, still doesn’t understand that Internet Explorer isn’t the internet. Heck – still uses Internet Explorer.
Anyway, I suspect he has a ulterior motive for getting the phone. To strengthen our relationship. First, it’s exciting to him to have me show all the bells and whistles of the phone and how to use it. That’s an activity we can do together. It just occurred to me today that this has been a pattern over the years.
About ten years ago my dad decided to pick up the drums. He had played when he was younger, but then thirty-five years passed without stick hitting skin. He bought a drum set, hired a teacher, and started practicing like crazy. Prior to this, my father had only one major obsession – golf. When I asked my mother why he would start playing drums at his age for no apparent reason, she said, “Don’t you see? He wants to play with you.” (I’ve been playing guitar for over twenty years). Although he never said it, I believe he wanted to get good enough where we could jam together.
A few years back I started this blog. Almost immediately, the man who had never written creatively said, “I think I want to write a book of my funny and touching golf stories.” I convinced him to put them in serial fashion online. I built him a blog which he wrote regularly called GolfWithDelbo. Again, part of the reason to start the blog was to have this shared experience with his son, the blogger. I can’t tell you how many hours I spent over the phone teaching him how to use and publish to the site.
I’m writing this post from Peoria where I drove down from Chicago to celebrate his birthday. I’m pretty sure my father (and mother) have never missed one of my birthdays. They always drive up and make a big to-do about it. It would never occur to me not to come down for his – even though he wouldn’t care if I did miss it.
I’ve said before that the acid test for how well you have done as a parent will be seen when your kids hit thirty. Are they calling often to see how you’re doing? Do they drive or fly home to spend holidays and birthdays? This is the scoreboard of parenting. If your kids still want something to do with you after they’ve left the nest you’ve done a capital job. If not, you blew it.
While I didn’t feel like my father actually liked me growing up (we didn’t share many common interests), he has really tried in my adulthood to bring us closer. The effort put in is nothing short of remarkable, and a true testament to his character.
I realize that I’m incredibly lucky to have someone like this in my life. Some people draw a bad parent hand, and I’m saddened to think of how much that must stink. I’m fortunate, and I try not to take it for granted. Happy Birthday, Dad.
Katjaneway says:
Awww that’s so cool! My parent’s and I are really close too. My sister barely remembers to call mom on Mother’s Day, but I’m always there with a card and a present. Same with the birthdays. I’ll always want to be close to my parents. They’ve helped me so much in life – I have to repay them somehow!
Jeneral Insanity says:
That’s awesome! I’m glad that you’ve realized how important you are to him, and that he’s trying to connect with you. All of those “little things” may seem trivial, but he’s obviously trying to stay connected. Happy Birthday to your one and only Daddy!
Erin says:
That is so sweet. When I dropped out of university, my Dad was the first to tell me that I could stay at home until I, “got back on my feet”. The time I spent with them allowed me to get to know my parents as people, and I appreciate them more now than I did back then. You look like your Dad too 🙂
Kat says:
You are a lucky guy to have parents like that. Remember to always treasure the relationship that you have with your dad. Some of us aren’t as lucky…
Gratitudenist says:
You are very lucky – and so is your dad! It’s so sweet how he wants to be close to you. Your post reminds me of when my dad took up oil painting when I was 12 so we could paint together.
Alison Dennehy says:
I agree with the parenting thing, overall. But now and then some children are just bad eggs. I’ve seen this once or twice over my 40+ years. The real acid test is if you have 2 or more children and NONE of them give much of a toss about you, I reckon. I must admit though, when I hear a story of a child abandoning a parent, I always wonder what the parent did to deserve that…
Anyway, yes you are very fortunate, both of you, and your post made me smile 🙂
Heather says:
Gah, this makes my heart happy. It reminds me of my dad! We share a lot of commonalities, but he always had trouble connecting with me on some levels… Probably because I’m a girl. Either way, we got close through my childhood by doing things together — he taught me about cars, I educated him about ballet moves and drug him to choir concerts. Now he’s taken up running so he can do a road race with me, and I’m learning how to swing a golf club, just because I know it makes him happy.
On a more serious note, I’ve learned how great a man my father is, especially recently. Upon my getting ill I have never seen someone step up so quickly with every intention not only to fight alongside his daughter, but to become educated about every nook and cranny of this illness.
Dads are quite awesome, it’s so awesome to see such an amazing relationship between the two of you.
PS- you look a lot like your father ;P
Jess says:
Haha! My mother does the same thing with the phones! You are a good son. My father always said that he was never a good ‘kid dad’ and he was right. I really don’t remember him being around and that’s fine. He’s been a wonderful ‘adult dad’ and until recently he was my go-to guy for any life situation. Now the tables have turned and in his second adolescence I’m the one he comes to for advice. Just more proof of what a good ‘adult dad’ he was!
Wendy says:
Happy birthday, D.J’s dad! Loved this tribute to your father … when I wasn’t laughing, I was “awww”-ing. He seems like such a fun guy–like father, like son. Thanks for sharing him with us. 🙂
P.S. Can I join your band? I play a mean tambourine AND cow bell … simultaneously. I know, I know, you’re impressed.
rockandrollmama says:
Nice post. I lost my Dad so many years ago now that all I can do is imagine what he would have thought of me as a fully grown woman instead of the f’d up college student I was. Treasure your time with your father.
Andrea says:
Very sweet. Your dad is a good one.
D.J. Paris says:
He is a good one! I got lucky!
jhanis says:
This is one of those stories that make me wish I had a dad. You are very lucky.
D.J. Paris says:
We can both share mine if you’d like! I asked him – he’s cool with it.