Thankful that my dad is still kicking. Eighty two years old and I respect him more every day. His little homestead in Indiahoma, OK sustained recent hail damage to the roof and siding. After getting bids he decided he could do it cheaper and better himself. So he did. He’s never met a mechanical or structural puzzle he wasn’t determined to solve. I’m just now starting to scratch that trait, thanks for instilling it even if it lay dormant for 40 plus years.
Dad worked like a Real Man his whole life. Never had a cushy desk job or a big salary. He expected the same out of his hippie son back in the 70s, something I railed against. Chose rather to take my own tack, a circuitous route that has finally brought me back to a point of appreciation I now wish I would have embraced much earlier.
My own fatherhood was wrought with being the vanguard of Stay At Home Dad. I started the gig in 1992 and dealt with levels of skepticism, doubt, and even distrust. “Why don’t you work?” “What’s your Real Job?” “How unfortunate for your kids!” From the mouths of women that were doing the exact same thing as me, the very best for their children. Gave me a different perspective and opinion of “Suburbia Moms”, those that would check the labels in my kids clothes, stand in their own group at the bus stop, change conversations to a whisper upon my approach. Wrinkle their brow when finding out we didn’t have membership to the Country Club. Not to mention the dominant, driven, overbearing, breadwinner that made it possible.
The Second Wave of Stay At Home Dads different than me. Those of the murse and the feminine affectations, set on gaining acceptance from the Play Date Set. No less fathers, but maybe just slightly less men, catering towards and favoring that foreign and unknowable opposite gender. Blurring lines that aught not be so. You can be a Strong Dad and a Good Dad.
That is what I thank my dad for this weekend. Leading By Example, Universal Truths that wear neither pant nor skirt. For being a Real Man. The one thing I hope my kids reflect upon when I’m 82.
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