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One of my first thoughts Tuesday night was how unfair it was for dad to leave now,
and then I snapped back to reality and I remembered that I had dad for many years,
years that included my first baseball game, my first football game, my first haircut,
my first job.
And I remembered just how lucky I had been and how there should be no regrets;
he lived his life as best he could.
Dad wasn't a perfect man, but he was a good man.
I didn't always like my father, I remember back in the 70's, Dad wanted me to register
for the draft. I like many of that time was fiercely opposed to the Vietnam War. So I
refused to register. Dad woke me up one morning and literally dragged me downtown
to register, I remember not liking him much that day.
The thing is though, I knew that even though he disagreed with my position,
he still loved me and I still loved him. And that is how it was with Dad.
All my life, I knew that he loved me and I knew that he respected my opinion.
He encouraged me to form my own opinions, to think for myself and to stand tall.
In my life I have done many things that my father didn't like, but through all the
rough times he stood behind me supporting me. He allowed me to make my own mistakes
and once I turned 18 my own decisions, registering for the draft notwithstanding.
Dad wasn't a perfect man, but he was a good man.
Most of the black history I know I learned from him. Dad loved history and when
I had a question about history I often asked him, he told me of seeing Jackie Robinson play,
of being refused service in a Texas restaurant, of not being able to get the job he wanted
after serving his country.
Dad also liked to read and my love of reading comes in large part from him, he encouraged
us to read and the house was filled with books. To this day I think my sisters and I
singlehandly keep Barnes and Noble in business. Dad also encouraged us to learn he always
stressed the value of an education and he was so happy I had returned to school.
He had argued with me when I left college the first time, but eventually tried to support
my decision despite disagreeing with it.
Dad wasn't a perfect man, but he was a good man.
These last few years I hadn't spent a lot of time with Dad and most of our conversations
were about sports, we argued over who was better Louis or Ali, we talked about huge
salaries for players and how Uncle Jake played in the Negro Leagues. We talked about
the '56 series and Larsen's perfect game and I always joked that I was there for the
game even though I was born weeks after the game.
I suppose now I can forgive him for being a Yankees fan.
Dad wasn't a perfect man, but he was a good man.
Just 3 weeks ago I had to interview Dad for a history assignment, and we talked about
his WWII experience. I mentioned to him that Tom Brokaw calls his generation the
greatest generation, and I asked him what he thought the real legacy of his generation
would be. His answer was that his generation's legacy was that they raised children
who got an education and who are living better lives than they did. And as I look out
here today I know this is the real legacy.
So dad as you look down on us, know that all of us hope to leave the same kind of legacy,
to give our children, our nieces, our nephews a better world, a better opportunity.
To do that will truly be honoring your memory.
I love you Dad.
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