DAD

      I remember my dad's bar, downstairs in our recreation room, where we would throw parties and other get-togethers. His bar was made of glass... which reflected different colors when its lights were on... and it was equipped with bar stools, beer signs, and a good selection of wine and spirits.
      For years, I had trouble recalling the good times we had at home because my spirit was burdened with painful memories... but today, on this Father's Day eve, I choose to remember some of the good things about my dad. I remember the square dance classes that he hosted in the recreation room, as Dean Cole called the steps for the Grimes Iowa Square Dance Club. It made me feel good to see mom and dad having fun, and even though I was forced to dance with Becky Winters, I enjoyed those times. I also enjoyed the parties that my brothers and I had in the same room... and just having friends over to hang out. Dad was an extremely hard-working man- driven to be a success- and (like me) he spent too much time away from home. I used to dwell on this, but now I recall some of the good times we had when he was home. I can still see him shaking his skillet as he made popcorn for us when we were gathered to watch TV, and I can still see him carving our turkey as we shared our traditional Thanksgiving dinner with the Grundons. He loved to cookout, and he did so frequently- at first for me and my brothers and perhaps a friend or two- and then for my brothers and me, and our wives, and our children. He was the undisputed BBQ king in the family- a title that my brother, Larry, claimed when he died- and he loved to have family and friends over for his feasts.
      Dad was tough and he often had a stern demeanor. He grew up poor during the Great Depression and he experienced the horrors of WW2. For him, life had always had its hurdles... but he loved to laugh... and I recall him laughing as he joked with friends... and as he watched Red Skelton on TV.  He loved Skelton and Gleason, and he always showed a quick wit himself. He was an uneducated man who worked furiously to pass his exams to become a Army pilot, and he showed the same iron will... when he forged a career in manufacturing. In the end, he was Executive Vice President and part owner of the crane company for which he worked. Dad was a hunter, but I was a bowler and a baseball player. Our recreational interests didn't coincide... but I recall the day when dad asked me to play catch in our backyard in Des Moines. It took courage for him to do that because it made him vulnerable. At one point during our game of catch, he said, "I'm not very good at these sort of things," and truth be known, he wasn't. But I was having the time of my life! Later in our life together, when I was in the midst of my own business career, I joined dad for drinks at the Rolling Pin Inn outside of Ankeny... and I can still remember him telling the men with us about my work and achievements. His words of affirmation made me feel good and I wish I could hear them today. I wish my dad and I would've had more conversations, and I wish he would've lived to see my "career" as a minister. I wish he would've lived to be 90... and seen the things that occurred in my own and my brothers' lives- the good and the bad. I wish I would've seen him one last time and I wish I would've told him that I loved him... although neither of us was prone to say such things.
      Dad was tough and he could even be intimidating. But in many ways, he was a gentle man who was caught up in emotions and experiences that he could not control. I know a little about such things myself... and today, I clinging to my memory of a glass bar...which was surrounded by a Schlitz beer sign and a picture of Custer's Last Stand. The picture, like the black panther that sat on our TV set, was common in those days, but he had placed a little sign next to the picture. The sign seemed out of place among dad's collection of guns, whiskey, and homemade beers... but I pondered its words many times... as I spent time downstairs alone. The words on the sign were simple: Small minds talk about people; average minds talk about events; great minds talk about ideas... and they have stayed with me for more than 50 years. Small minds talk about people; average minds talk about events; great minds talk about ideas. Dad wouldn't have put the sign up on his wall unless it spoke to him, but I've never known whether he was referring to the fact that he never gossiped (which he didn't)... or whether he was trying to tell the rest of us that we shouldn't.
      When we gathered at his funeral, one of his friends told me twice that dad was a "hell of a man." At the time, I wasn't ready to hear it and... even now, I would use different words to say what dad's friend said. I wouldn't say that he was a "hell of a man," but I would say that I loved him ... and that I miss him. Very much.