I am thankful for my father, and I told him so today. It annoys me slightly to do so on “Fathers’ Day” since there is always the nagging thought that I am doing so only because of all the marketing hype. It is not nearly so bad as Valentine’s Day, where The Man and I go out of our way to specifically NOT participate, but that is a different story. On this day, however, I am somewhat grateful for the marketing, since I really do not thank him often enough and even though I am “supposed to” today, I did so gratefully and from my heart.
At the same time, I think of my father-in-law who I never really thanked directly and now no longer have the opportunity. He was an embodiment of the “American Dream.” Born poor, grew up through the Great Depression, never went to high school, worked uncountable odd jobs including a sho-’nuff range cowboy (which for some reason impresses me to no end), could fix anything so his garage was always full of “I can use this for something someday” car parts and appliances and hardware and tools. He got a job as a mechanic and over the years worked his way up to a supervising safety inspector for one of the Big Four U.S. airlines. He was frugal but not miserly, carefully planned and saved and invested so he could live out his days going about his quiet life independently, not a burden to his children and especially not dependent on the government. And when he passed, his estate left a generous portion to each of his three children.
Because of his health, The Man has not had significant work in over 18 months, and now I have no job, either. Yet because of Mr. B’s wisdom and carefulness combined with my severance pay, we are safe for at least a year and can stretch that a few months longer if we follow his lessons.
Thank you, sir. I wish I could do it in person.