Daddy O' Mine

When I was about 5, Daddy took a job in a town 50 miles away because there weren’t any in the town we lived in. Goodyear had just opened it’s largest tire factory in the world in Union City, TN. It took a year for him to be able to find a house to rent that we could afford. Adding 3,000 jobs in a town that was about 15,000 caused a housing shortage as people moved in from all around. He spent at least 2 hours a day commuting (which doesn’t sound like much by today’s urban standards, but it was back then at that time and place).

Every Friday when he got in from work, he had two candy bars in his pockets: one for me and one for my sister. Whichever pocket we chose determined the one we got.

I was always partial to the Baby Ruth’s, and jumped up and down squealing when that’s what I picked.

It seemed to me a gift from God, and Daddy was the god who bestowed blessings of chocolate and peanuts.

I didn’t realize we were poor back then. I liked not having to take a bath too regularly (we didn’t have a bathroom or tub, other than a big old tin one. Find me a five year old boy that wants to bathe daily and then check for brain damage.)

Our life was full and rich.

It was a gift, I realize now.

And Daddy was a major donor.

Of all the gifts my father has given me over the last 42 years, one stands out, first and foremost. It wasn't a Baby Ruth. It wasn’t an automobile. It wasn’t bailing me out when I got in over my head. It wasn’t putting up with me when I was insufferable and pretentious. It wasn’t even acceptance, something many gay people don’t get from their parents, ever, as important as that is.

Daddy gave me something infinitely more valuable: he taught me what it means to be and, more importantly, how to be a man.

That’s another thing many sons don’t get from their fathers.

And while those statements might appear to marginalize the role and importance of women, it doesn’t. Strong men and strong women are all strong. But they often grow that strength differently.

I grew mine after Daddy’s example.

It didn’t happened overnight, and I’ve done many things I would be ashamed for him to know about.

He exercised patience and forbearance all along, two things I’m only growing into right now. I only know that I’m better than I was 5 years ago. I learned, and am still honing, tolerance of human imperfection.

Daddy always put us (my two sisters and me) first, even when it was inconvenient and meant extra work for him. He took care of his own.

He didn’t bail when times got bad, and believe me, they got bad.

He taught me to stand by the ones you love, even if they’re broke, difficult or just plain crazy. That’s when they need me most.

Daddy didn’t graduate from high school. Times were beyond rough in the rural South back then, especially for a single mother and her youngest son. He got a GED when he was in the Air Force, and never let the lack of formal education get in the way.

He’s still one of the smartest people I know.

He and Mama have managed to raise five kids (that includes my nephew and niece, of whom they’ve had custody since they were very, very young). We’ve all had, and continue to have, our problems. As a rule, one of us always seems to be in a mess. Or just a mess.

Still, Daddy’s always been there, doing what he can.

I try to live up to his example, but I don’t always make it.

Even so, I know what’s important and what’s not. I learned that all from him.