My father and I didn't get along all the time. Most of the time we were fine, but when we disagreed, we fought as our family does - loud, in each other's faces, and when done, family and friends again. Debates in our house were frequent, and outsiders (including my wife) didn't always understand how we could go from yelling at each other, loud and volcal, directly to sharing some dessert after dinner like it didn't even happen. Our arguments weren't intended to be personal; they were intellectual pursuits, well, at least for Dad and I they were.
But were times that Dad would throw out a zinger, one that would sting for a bit, but would stay with you for a while. What sticks with me most these days were a few of the sayings (rarely original) he used more often with me.
"Jack of all trades, Master of none"
"If it's worth doing, it's worth doing for Money"
"I may hate what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it"
"You have a right to swing your fist, but your right stops at the point of my nose."
These were just a few of the things Dad would say to me; pearls of wisdom, often delivered right at the worst time for me to hear them, but the times I probably needed to hear them. And I didn't always understand them when he said them, but only on later reflection ('cause I rarely wanted to ask him what he meant if one of these on-liners ticked me off).
It is on later reflection, though, that I got what he was trying to say, and how he had a philosophy about him that may not have been complete, and all too-often echoed what he heard on the radio, but it was his, and it shaped not only his life, but mine as well.
Dad passed nine years ago today, and I miss him.
No comments:
Post a Comment