Next week, he would have turned 93 years young. I can't imagine having a father that old! But, then again, he probably couldn't imagine having a sixty-three-year-old son. (That, people, would be my eldest brother.)
My dad was raised in the days when life issues were pretty well black and white. You know, the stuff that made this country great, a generation ago – bedrock institutions like marriage, employment, faith, law and order, and education. As a young man from Vancouver, he fell in love with a girl from Edmonton. He married her (my mother, of course) and remained faithful to her till the day he died. (Would that make me part Oiler and part Canucks? I can't help it if it's in my genes.)
He was one of those rare birds that had a healthy balance between his family, work, and faith. Okay, I fib: He probably spent more time with the church and less time with the family than he should have, but I didn't know any better back then. Actually, the lines between church and home were blurred back then, because both institutions were so inter-connected.
My best recollections of Dad are tied to the two weeks we spent at Cultus Lake, a holiday hangout a couple of hours out of Vancouver. Our cabin was only one block (or five leaps) from the lake. Those were the carefree days of swimming, sleeping, eating - and that was just before lunch. My dad? You would never catch him in the water; but that didn't matter to me: I didn't need to be entertained. I had food, siblings, and a lake.
I am not really sure how we spent our time as kids, or even as a family, for that matter. You see, those were the days before cell phones, computers, DVDs, and most fast-food restaurant chains. (You might say that Burger King was just a prince back then.) I guess we made our own fun: There were trees to climb, books to read, and games to play; there were outdoor activities like Kick the Can and street hockey. We didn't need 'things' back in the 60's to keep us entertained; we just used our ordinary unbridled sense of initiative.
My parents were not rich people – at least in terms of money. They had their mortgage paid off in the early years of their marriage. That freed up money for other things, though they spent their income frugally and wisely. This meant, for example, that going out for a meal was a rare yet happy event. Unlike today's generation, it was an occasional event. Needless to say, when went out, we behaved well.
I have been thinking recently about my father's legacy. It wasn't name or fame or any other claim. You wouldn't know a thing about him (except for what you have just read). I think of legacy in terms of simple things - things like four sons who continue to honour his wife (our mother), because he modelled that behaviour. I think in terms of four sons who have made his faith their faith and have continued to practice what he preached. And I think in terms of four sons who have 126 years of married life among them (and still counting).
Would that be the legacy of everyone from that generation!
You may be reading this and swear that I am talking about your dad. Well, in an indirect way I probably am. Methinks we are losing that generation far too fast. Whatever they did, they had a steadying influence on our society, even though there was nothing splashy or flashy about them.
I know my dad had a lot of faults – he was a "son of Adam," after all – but at this stage of my life, I can't remember any of them. I just trust my own kids can rise up and say the same thing after I'm gone.
Would he want to come back? I doubt it. So much has deteriorated in our society in the past seventeen years. And he's a whole lot happier and healthier where he is. I'm already looking forward to the reunion.
An added bonus would if there is swimming, sleeping, and eating.
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