10 Things I Learned From My Dad

Father's Day got me thinking yesterday. With some time alone on my bike, I had a lot of opportunity to reflect and think about my dad. I often think about him when I race, and wonder what he'd think of the craziness of a crit or cx race. I know he'd be proud that I'm even out there trying--he was stoked when I finished the MS 150, so I can only imagine how he would have felt when I got my win earlier this season. But on Father's Day, I thought about his legacy. What did he teach me that impact the way I live now? There are so many things, but I limited it to the first ten that came to mind. Some are life lessons, some are just practical, some are just pure Donnie Ray.

1. Every home should have a good hammer, Phillip's & flat head screw driver, needle nose pliers, duct tape and super glue. While my dad began his adult life wearing a tie, he retired a master mechanic. His skills came from high school shop class and trial and error. He was good with an engine or a piece of wood. (His electrical work did scared me a little.) He impressed on me the need to be able to do basic maintenance myself. There was no need to hire someone or need a man to do it--not his daughter. When we bought our first house in Soulard and it needed renovation, he was in heaven. He helped me spend a weekend trimming out a decorative window on our third floor, including holding my legs while I leaned through the stairwell to put the cornices on the other side.
2. Love literature. My dad finished high school, barely. He was a hands-on type guy. Classroom learning wasn't for him, but that didn't mean he wasn't well read. During his stint as a real estate agent and an insurance salesman, he had a lot of flexibility. During the summer months when it was hot (and we didn't have air conditioning) we spent countless hours at the library. And as I got older, I went back and read some of the novels I remember him reading then and I got the chance to pass on great reads to him. As he got older, I started buying hardcover books because the print was easier for him to read. I have to consciously stop myself from doing that because he's always in my head when I'm browsing books.
3. Diverse interests make a person interesting. This lesson I gleaned from watching my dad live life. He was at home in the woods, behind a camera, with his nose in a book, under a car, or walking through the art museum. I would venture to call him a modern day Renaissance man. His approach to life has guided me in keeping a broad range of interests.
4. It's always time for a good cup of coffee. (and piece of pork) My dad's tastes were simple. He was definitely a "meat and potatoes" eater, though he would humor me and try whatever I concocted in the kitchen--I think it was a relief just not to eat my mom's cooking. He started the day with a good cup of coffee and a bacon or sausage sandwich. He kept the coffee flowing through the day. It was common that he was sipping on a fully leaded up at 9PM as well. The only time he deviated from this was during hot days when he was working, he'd still start and end with coffee though. And as for the pork, it won out over everything else, except maybe fried chicken.
5. The greatest reward for a parent is to see their child reach successes. The older I got, the deeper the conversations were between my dad and me. This is a direct statement he made to me. He told me the big accomplishments were wonderful, watching graduations, marriages, grandchildren being born. But little things were important too--my refrigerator having real food and not just milk and beer. He told me that the way I had grown up made him know that he was a good parent. That counts as one of the best compliments I have ever received.
6. Dull knives are dangerous. This was a practical directive from my father. When I was growing up, our kitchen knives could always split a hair. I think this came from his time hunting and butchering in Ava. I wish I would have learned from him how to use sharpening stone. He tried to teach me, but I never got it quite right. I have become as emphatic as he was about this.
7. Don't make promises you can't keep. Your word is important. It's a testament to your character and who you are as a person. My dad lived this and spoke it outright. If we promised to do something and a "better offer" came up, too bad. You committed, you stick with it.
8. Be respectful to the earth. My dad was by no means a tree hugger, but he valued the earth and what it provides. We didn't hunt or fish just for sport. You only kill what you can eat. You plant trees and flowers and make sure they are native to the area. Never disturb a bird's nest or animal's home.
9. Work ethic-you get paid to do a job, do it. No job is too menial. My dad sold real estate in the late 70s when interest rates were off the charts. It didn't bring in a lot of money. There weren't a lot of other good paying jobs out there. I can remember him working at a gas station to bring money in while he looked for something else to support us. I think this one goes hand-in-hand with keeping promises. You take care of your family, they are a commitment. He didn't take a lot of time off work either. Sick days were few and far between in our house. With the exception of my maternity leave, I have only taken three sick days in my career.
10. Never be afraid to tell someone how you feel. Life is too short to keep your feelings inside. While my dad always told me he loved me, a major regret he had was that he didn't say that to Poppy until he was in the throws of Alzheimer's. He regretted not being as affectionate with his own dad, and sons, as he was with me. That realization was important to him and he spent the next four years making sure he told my brothers that he loved and working on them to be more open with their feelings.

While a few of these lessons were spoken outright, I'm sure my dad didn't realize he was teaching me the others. He probably wasn't consciously aware of how much I watched what he was doing. That can be another lesson I learned from him--live a good life, because others are watching you--most importantly your children.