Being Dad

 I'm not gonna lie, I had a pretty good dad. He was hard-working, devoted, artistic, spiritual, funny, playful at times, rigid at others, but he was always my dad. I didn't have to struggle through divorce, death or any traumatic drama brought on by my parents. They were pretty solid, married for 47 years. They loved me. Dad loved me...in his own, weird way.

Was he always present? No. He was away on National Guard Duty or travelling the southern third of the state as a bank examiner in my earliest years on this planet. When we moved to Indianapolis in 1974, our family grew from four to five with the addition of my middle sister and Dad's promise to Mom was that he'd get off the road and spend more time at home with us. His desk job with the State of Indiana provided more at home time and he was able to commit to coaching my first three years in baseball at Meridian Street Methodist and later my sisters' softball teams at St. Alban's. But when he joined the executive staff at a trade union, he was forced to travel more. I began to feel his absence again from my life. Also, I was becoming a teenager know-it-all and we butted heads a lot. But even Dad's absence for periods of my life taught me.

Dad (head coach, rear) and Mom (assistant, left) are seen here with my sister's team.

I became a Dad in 2001. At that time, I had a demanding job that required travel on a moment's notice. I didn't like being beholden to a pager that would go off at all hours or having a travel kit packed in case of emergency. I was determined to be a consistent presence in my daughter's life. When her sister came in 2004, I doubled down on that commitment. So that when unemployment hit in 2009, I relished the chance to be a fully invested, stay-at-home Dad. What I saw as my Dad's "failure," I was determined not to repeat. And in my case, I understood the importance of my decision because I had little girls.

All that to say, I was determined to be a better father to my kids--more present, more aware, more empathetic, more authentic, less critical and a primary caregiver. I knew that I'd have a chance to make money again when they weren't so young and impressionable. It was a conscious choice to do with less, so that I'd have so much more.

But my Dad was the primary bread-winner my whole life. The seven of us were never in dire need of anything. We grew up in a middle-class neighborhood on the northeast side of Indy with rich neighbors to our north and poverty-stricken ones to our south. I was never in fear of doing without. In that sense, my Dad was a great provider. He worked hard, took pride in his white collar job (with no college degree) and made enough for us to live a comfortable life.

We took family trips. We ate well. We had adequate healthcare. We went to church on the regular. Our lives were what I'd call "normal."

Dad on a mission trip to Uganda

On the spiritual front, my Dad was a seeker. He grew up Catholic, but wasn't content with just being spoonfed a few Scriptures at a time from the priest. He and Mom joined a Catholic Bible Study and began exploring their faith together. Mom converted to Catholicism, so that she could fully celebrate the sacraments with Dad. We attended Mass until Dad got fed up with the Church and we left. Finding our home in Protestantism, we were baptized by the Baptists and again by the Pentacostals. I always say I grew up Catho-Bapti-costal. The point is, we were led by my parents down a spiritual path that shaped and informed us from an early age.

Aside from his work ethic and his spiritual quest, my Dad was an artist. He picked up the banjo and attempted to learn to pick, using finger picks and a copy of "Dueling Banjos" on 45. This was before the movie "Deliverance" made that song into the Hillbilly Anthem it has become. I didn't particularly care for that song or the banjo, to be honest. But Dad also loved to draw and to build stuff. He was creative.

My Dad was a consummate smartass, too. But he wasn't just sarcastic, he could laugh at himself and find humor in off-beat situations. He, my Mom and I loved SCTV when that sketch comedy show came out. His personal favorite was "Farm Film Celebrity Blow-Up" featuring the iconic John Candy and Joe Flaherty. He loved the comedy of Bill Cosby and Steve Martin. I grew up watching the Not Ready for Primetime Players on Saturday Night Live. Dad was known for his zany antics and he could surprise you at times. He had a persona his friends called "Father Jimmy Mike," for a quirky priest he liked to portray. I developed a sense of humor largely because of him. I'm a total smartass like he was. (Mom was very funny, too.)

Both of my parents inspired my love of music--one of my passions. But it was Dad's vinyl collection that got the most rotations, from "Meet the Beatles" to "Harmony" by Three Dog Night. He was a huge fan of Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys. Like Mom, he loved vocal harmonies. But unlike Mom, he loved great guitar solos, too. "Hotel California" was one of the first 45's he ever bought for me, for that reason. I grew up on a healthy dose of Beatles, Beach Boys, Mamas and Papas, The Carpenters, Eagles and an endless stream of "golden oldies" from Dad's mix tapes.

We sang as a family at church. Mom sang in the choir. We were involved in church musicals and other productions. There was always music playing in our home and in the car. I owe a great debt to my Dad for appreciating good music, especially rock-n-roll, but he also loved classical, gospel and bluegrass.

Dad taught me how to mow the yard, to throw a football (I have a pretty good spiral), to do light vehicle maintenance (I've never once changed my own oil) and to laugh at myself. He taught me there were more important, eternal things, than just work, money and possessions. He inspired me to be creative and musical. He was poetic and a romantic, so he inspired me to write, as well. He was never afraid, ashamed or embarrassed to show my Mom affection. He was very opinionated and outspoken, so modeled that for me, as well.

He was far from a perfect Dad, but I learned a lot from him--good and bad.

I was a pretty lucky kid.

I'm a great Dad because of what I learned.

Thanks, Dad.

(EDIT: I forgot to mention him as a Papaw to my girls and 12 other grands...HE WAS AN OUTSTANDING PAPAW!!! All of them will tell you the same. So there's that...)