The Dithering of a District Diva

Dad: Where are you at?

Me: I’m in cab going home.

Dad: Why are you in a cab, why didn’t you just take the train?

Me: Well Fenty keeps raising the cost of fares so instead of putting money on my SmartTrip card, I just thought I’d take a cab.

Dad: You’re an idiot.

I looked up into the ceiling of the cab, thought about it, nodded affirmatively, and then shrugged. It was a stupid plan if my goal was to save money.  My dad was right.

He often says, “You can take the easy road, or the road of life. For some reason, you just insist on taking the road of life. But either way, you’ll learn.” He’s referring to my insistence on making life more complicated and dramatic than necessary.  I generally understand his point — after the fact.

But sometimes I miss the message he is trying to communicate to me, as he cleverly mixes it in amongst a sea of other words.  Like this, for example:

Dad: So, I read that blog of yours.  Seems to me like you ought to be writing a book instead of wasting your time on that thing.

Me: Sooooooooooooooooooo, you think I’m good enough to write a book?

See? Sometimes you’ve just got to wade through the superfluous to get to the heart of it,  the heart that says, I love you, I want the best for you, I want you to be your best…and I don’t want to pay your bills when you’re 35…

That’s the thing about my dad.  He may not want to do it, and I may not want him to do it for me, but just to know that if I completely fail at life, he will always be there for me, is liberating.  It is the kind of support a girl needs to do something unthinkable — like pursue a career as a writer and book author.

Such a path would be far less traditional than the one my father took to success.  My dad has only had two employers in the nearly 25 years that I have been alive.  First, he worked his way up through the ranks of the United States Air Force as a Lieutenant Colonel before retiring a veteran of the Gulf War after 22 years of service.  Then he transitioned into flying for a cargo company and has held this position for over 10 years now.

One would think he learned such discipline and loyalty in the military, but in reality, the military was just a natural and logical next step after growing up on a farm.  In rural North Carolina, on the farm my family still owns, my father learned that if you didn’t work hard, you didn’t eat. And not just you — your mom wouldn’t eat, nor would your dad, nor six brothers and sisters.  His sense of discipline comes from a sense of responsibility not only to himself, but to his family.

And besides being the most honorable man I’ve ever known, my father continues to teach me the importance of loyalty to family and respect for parents and the sacrifices they make.  This is actually the very reason I am unable to celebrate with him on his day;  it is his weekend to spend back on the farm in North Carolina to care for my ailing grandmother.

Some of the most important lessons — like loyalty and discipline — I’ve learned from just watching my father.  He always took our family to church, dropped my mother, sister, and I off at the church door so we wouldn’t have to walk in our heels, parked the car, and joined us. He always opens doors for us.  Those seem like such small things, but seeing him do those things impacted me immensely. While my mother taught me how to be a lady, my father showed me: this is how a man should treat a lady. This is what a husband should be.

As a kid, my sister and I would watch the clock in the kitchen because we knew at 5:00 daddy was coming home.  And he always came home. He helped us with our homework and taught us to play every sport I ever had a fleeting interest in — from basketball, to volleyball, to tennis — and he was good at all of them.  Anything I ever needed help with growing up, I’d always ask my dad because the thought that he wouldn’t know never crossed my mind.  I would often become frustrated when he would tell me to look the answer up, or would take me to the library, but it taught me not to rely on the interpretation of history or facts of others, but to go to the source and find my own answers. Watching my father read book after book after book instilled in me an intellectual curiosity for the world. He has always been my go-to source for advice, and he loves to give it, whether solicited or otherwise. (Such advice often starts with “if you did xyz instead of whatever it is I’m doing, you’d be a lot better off.”)  Reflecting on all of that my dad has tried to teach me — through both lectures and deeds– I can see that: this is what a father is. After such an example of a man, a husband, and a father, I can never settle for any less than my dad.

I ask my father what he wanted for Father’s Day and he said, “just pay your bills on time.”  Besides being the easiest person in the world to shop for during holidays, my dad is constantly taking the time to teach me life lessons, like financial responsibility.

And, all jokes aside, you don’t have to worry that what you’ve taught me isn’t getting through, Dad. I hear you. I am listening. I appreciate all of your sacrifices and your support. And I honor you on your special day and every day. I love you!

Happy Father’s Day!

I hate that I look like the son my dad never had in this picture and as if I’m intruding on a special Father-Daughter moment with my sister, but whatever! My dad looks nice.

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