Father's Day

I was wandering around the Web and found an interesting blog, found here and got to thinking if there was anything beyond my existence as his son that I'm thankful about as his son. And sadly nearly 17 years after his death, which I wrote about it two years ago, I struck me with the blog entries he did it before me.

And the "it" is? Well, when he was 19 after his first year of college his Dad told him the same thing he told me then, meaning the front door, but he got to stay around awhile until the war started and he enlisted in the Army 1940. He then served 23-plus years and rarely went home again. His Dad died when we were in England, and as far as I know didn't go home to Kansas for the funeral.

Anyway, the blog about Dad doing it before us is right, my Dad did to me what his Dad did to him. My Dad treated his oldest son, my brother, like his Dad treated his oldest son, my uncle, the same way, as the son who stuck around hom and could do no wrong. My Dad was the black sheep of the family as I became because we were the same at that age.

But I won't thank my Dad as he never said, "I love you.", beyond when it's expected. He was a very private person and rarely even said it to Mom in front of us kids, so I couldn't expect it from him. He probably did what he learned from his Dad, who did it before him. The English half of my family (the other German).

I will, however, thank my Mom when she said a few years before he died, "Do me a favor, don't become your father." Ok, thanks Dad for showing me how not to be. You did that before me as your father did it before you. I owe for that, but don't expect a thanks for it. It took me too long to realize it and change.

The only thing you taught me was what I taught myself. And that you didn't do before me.