DAD DAYS TO GRANDDAD AND BEYOND

Dad days never end, and I’m glad.

I didn’t sign up for the part time version.

There wasn’t a switch to throw for the eighteenth birthday that said, ‘I’m done.’

I’ve been a dad since my first born, then doubled up with my second.

Since then a few surprises joined up, just not those surprises.

If you stick around you learn how other dad days have worked out.

You may find yourself as a surrogate dad for men who miss their dads, never knew their dads, or wish they had another dad instead of the one they got.

Some of the guys won’t understand the Dad Pyramid Of Needs, so I’ve tried to be a role model, but not those role models.

I work at being a boring, stay at home, one woman, man. So far, so good.

In fact, it’s not that hard to do.

When my kids were young I was always around. I went to work and came home. I worked in a museum with regular hours.

With a kid oriented focus, I did whatever came up for them.

When they played rec-league sports in grade school and had poor coaching, I stepped up and took teams.

We had birthday parties every year, did something to celebrate whatever special day came up.

My wife is a big believer in special days, so was her mom.

That might be because her mom’s birthday was May 5, Cinco de Mayo, and she set the party bar high.

When I first saw the Dad Pyamid Of Needs I could relate. There’s nothing missing in my life, but I was intrigued by what was missing on the pyramid.

 

The Face Of Approval

This is the face of approval you see in guys who have found their purpose and it has nothing to do with wives or kids.

Dads who work to out-do other dads know this look; everyone is lame except them.

They can be identified by their leather slip-ons with no socks, their Bermuda shorts, and golf shirts with a popped collar.

With golf clubs in the garage, whether they golf or not, and a gym membership to keep their middle-aged tone, they say things like, “I could climb a mountain, I could run a marathon, but work keeps me too busy.”

They say things like, “Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if I had joined the Army.”

Substitute graduate school for the Army, or anything except the Army, and it works as well.

I wonder what it would have been like if I had stayed in college all the way through and become a teacher, which I thought about so hard that I interviewed with the local graduate programs for a masters in education.

At age forty-nine.

I had the academic qualifications, the letters of reference, but the educational institutions weren’t interested in some guy who wanted to make his class the best in the school.

That’s what I told them. I’d be a history teacher with an anchor classroom every student would want to be in, a welcome relief from the other classes and teachers.

I took that rejection as a loss for educational infrastructure. They needed me, but didn’t know it.

Turns out the state education system ranked 45th in the nation was good enough.

 

Oregon school systems ranked 45th among all U.S. states and Washington, D.C., according to the report. The Beaver State landed between Alabama (44) and West Virginia (46) on the list. The State of Washington, meanwhile, ranked 23rd in the U.S.

 

The face in the top pic is the face of college admission interviewers denying applicants with higher goals than keeping a job.

All it did in the end was make me more determined that my kids wouldn’t fall by the wayside, wouldn’t slip through the cracks.

Kid’s science teacher: Your son is disruptive in class when he finishes his assignments.

Me: I’ll talk to him.

 

Me: Hey, I talked to your science teacher. He says you’re disruptive in class when you finish your assignments.

Kid: They are easy and I finish early. What am I supposed to do, sit there?

Me: What’s your grade in the class?

Kid: I’m getting an A.

Me: Keep up the good work. Let me know if you need any help.

Kid: We ask Mom for help.

Me: Even better. Help the teacher out by not interrupting other kids finishing their work. Not everyone gets done early.

 

The End Of Dad Days 

That’s me at my Dad’s funeral holding onto my youngest.

I’m wearing my cowboy hat; the one I bought my Dad is unfortunately in the casket.

Because my Dad had a few hard years at the end of his life, there was a sense of peace that day.

After the ceremony the gathering sang the first verse of Amazing Grace.

I liked singing it so much that I sang it over again and people joined in.

The third time through fewer people joined in.

The fourth time was enough to show I wasn’t getting a solo.

Before the crowd dispersed to let the grounds crew finish up, I asked if the young men in the crowd could lower the casket.

With that piece of work finished, everyone lined up to drop a handful of dirt in the grave.

I went through the line a few times, then asked the grounds crew if they had any extra shovels so we could fill the grave instead of the back-hoe.

With shovels in hand we went to town. The old man had a saying about digging: All I want to see are assholes and elbows.

We filled that hole in a big sweat, then went to the Leather Neck Club in Klamath Falls for beers and food.

The next day we went back to the graveyard.

The boys and I gave Grandpa a last goodbye.

Now I’m the Granddad and they both have wives and kids.

Like asking for help in school, my wife is the family anchor.

You can’t be a good husband and dad without a good mom and wife on the job.

She all of that and more.

She keeps track of everyone and gives attention where it’s needed.

Her Mom days aren’t anymore done than my Dad days.

We like it like that, but not everyone agrees.

If you get accused of babying your kids, just remind whoever it is: “They’ll always be my babies.”

I feel the same way. If they have friends and neighbors who never had the kind of Dad they needed, I understand.

Now and then something happens and they need a Dad hug, or two.

Guys grow up and get over things and that’s it. That’s how we’re raised.

My adult kids get two hugs, one when I arrive and one when I leave.

In between are the other Dad hugs for friends and neighbors.

It feels like an honor because it is an honor.

That’s the kind of honor I like.