A Father’s Day Dream

A Father'sA special day is just around the corner for dads. Some are looking forward to grabbing a beer and plopping down in their favorite chair to watch a sports event. Others will be dragged to a family function more geared toward women than men, yet it will all be in the name of honoring fathers. And, there will be those dads who long to capture another moment of life with his kids, no matter what their ages.

My dad, like myself, enjoyed the latter activity. He loved to spend time building special memories with my sister and me on Father’s Day, but my mom often had other plans. The older I got, the more I realized that dad just wanted three things out of Father’s Day: thanks, recognition, and appreciation.

THANKS

Dad sacrificed a significant amount of his free time to make extra money so I could do the activities I loved. He networked with key people in town to get me a job at the camera store where I bought my first professional camera system and used it to win Kodak’s national composition award.

Dad also supported my love for music and connected me with the owner of the music store in town. Within a few weeks, I found myself playing drums for elaborate parties, weddings and jazz clubs. Dad also supported my ability to perform and encouraged me to create a show of illusions that led to a first place award in the regional magicians competition.

And guess who let me use his professional 16mm movie camera to explore the world of film. It was no wonder that I shot my first documentary for CBS by age 18. Having grown up with a camera pointed at me since the age of 11 months, I felt at ease in production settings.

RECOGNITION

Without understanding what recognition was, I’d regularly share stories about my dad’s adventures with hundreds of people I met. I shared stories of his heroics like the Saturday morning we were driving downtown in our village. The bank alarm sounded and we watched a robber run out of the bank with a large bag of cash. The guy ran right past the front of our car causing us to screech to a stop. My dad told mom to slide over and grab the steering wheel as he hopped out of the car.

Since my dad was a police officer and they’re never “off duty,” he pulled his .38 Special out from his jacket and headed into the Woolworth store after the robber. He shouted to the clerk to call the police and headed down the aisle in pursuit. Police officers arrived on scene within moments after my dad handcuffed the bank robber and led him to the front of the store. He nonchalantly walked back to the car and we continued on our way as if nothing had happened.

I also recognized him when I won my first national and international directing awards. After all, he helped me understand how to capture story on film and even taught me simple, yet profound concepts like these words of wisdom he shared, “It’s a motion picture and the camera is made for movement, so if the actor isn’t moving the camera needs to move.”

APPRECIATION

My favorite times were those spent chatting with dad about life. Our talks were deep, precious and always just the two of us. If we were in a group of guys, instead of conversations about life, we took turns telling stories that fascinated every man leaning in. When in a group of women we’d listen attentively and only shared a few words when we could add value. But those times we connected alone, whether for 5-10 minutes or longer, were priceless.

I saw in my father’s eyes great pride when I took his words to heart. He knew that one day he could release me in the world and I’d stand tall, making decisions that would make him proud. In fact, I remember the day he acknowledged my manhood and shared with others how proud he was of me. But more importantly I remember the day at the cottage when I thanked him for all that he had instilled in my life. His eyes were filled with such an afterglow that I never thought was possible.

My mom told me later that dad bragged about me to all of his friends for weeks after that day. I suppose it may have lasted longer if it weren’t for the plane crash that took his life at the end of summer. Had I known the power of my appreciation earlier in life, I think he might have glowed for years.

I’ll miss dad this Father’s Day, as I recall more stories than I’ll have time to share with others. He was a servant to our family, a leader in our community, a veteran from WWII, and the best storyteller that I’ve met to date. I couldn’t even begin to think creatively if it weren’t for him.

It’s my hope for fathers all across the globe that this Father’s Day they will be thanked, recognized and appreciated. And more importantly, that they’ll be able to connect with their kids in a heartfelt manner.

© 2017 by CJ Powers

A Father’s Impact

A Fathers ImpactIt’s been a month since my mother passed away. Reflecting on her life is still a daily occurrence for me. Memories are triggered by every item of hers I’ve had to go through when determining its future. Stacks of photos slow me down the most, as I relive the moments that I participated in.

Few photos exist of her father. He died when mom was too young. One person told me she was 14 and another said 9. Both ages sadden me.

My dad died when I was 19. His death made a lasting impact on me. It forever changed the direction of my life. My mom must have had a similar experience, but with a more harsh reality being raised by a single mom in the early 1900’s. I can’t help but wonder how important a dad is to have impacted his family while present and in death.

Tim Ritchey is a father and a dear friend that I admire. During this time of reflection, he posted a note on Facebook that brought a warm smile to my face and trepidation to my soul. He posted…

Fatherhood Challenge Dare:
I was nominated to publish a pic that makes me feel happy to be a father (so I did 19) I am going to tag men that i feel are fabulous fathers. If you are one of them awesome dads, copy the text and paste this to your wall along with picture and tag other fathers. THIS SHOULD NOT TAKE ALL DAY FELLAS!!!!!!!! If I chose you, I chose an outstanding human being, and I am pleased to call u my friend.

I was honored when he called me an “outstanding human being” and “I am pleased to call u my friend.” Coming from a man that quickly earns respect from everyone he meets was a great pat on the back. I felt affirmed.

The trepidation that soon flowed through my bones was not so pleasant. Pictures popped into my head that would work well for a response, but they were all in storage. Having no pictures to express how happy I was to be a father made me question what kind of a father I had been.

I knew what kind of a son I had been because my dad spoke truthfully to mom over the years. Many hints for improvement and compliments of success made it to my ears. I was very thankful to hear my mom tell me just two weeks before my dad died how proud he was of me and how much fun he had when I was around. Dad even loved my work ethic and all the help I gave him fixing up the small cottage we enjoyed.

A few months ago I saw the impact my ex-father-in-law had on my kids. I also remembered all he meant to me, as he was in my life longer than my dad. Yet, my dad’s impact was still greater. It took me years to get past his death because of the values he instilled in me. Not to mention all those times when he was there for me.

I’ll never forget the time I was walking around in a cloud of amazement because of Kim Jones. We were in fourth grade and she was the most fun and beautiful girl in school. We played dodge ball together, built forts in the woods next to school, and played house.

One day when my dad was getting dressed for work, I came into his bedroom to chat about something very personal. I shared how there was a constant stirring inside my belly whenever I thought about Kim. He told me it was because she was a really important friend and made me happy. I agreed.

I asked, with a wide-open vulnerable heart, if I should “go steady” with her. Dad put me at ease by saying that going steady was for people in high school. But he also pointed out that since she was important to me, I could signify it by getting her a friendship ring.

With my dad’s blessings I went to the jewelers and bought a really cool friendship ring. It was really expensive (I think it cost about $8 back then), but was worth the ability to express my feelings through the gift. Kim loved it and said she’d always treasure it. Two weeks later her dad was transferred and she moved away.

I’ll never forget how my dad protected my feelings.

But what about me as a father?

I never had the opportunity to tell my dad what a great job he did in guiding me through that highly vulnerable and emotional time. Nor did I know if I had participated in such a powerful moment when I did the right thing for my kids. The only thing I had confidence in was how well my kids turned out.

My kids are godly, intelligent, self-aware, worthy of respect, leaders, great public speakers, considerate, good listeners, creative, and know how to share great stories. But does that mean the impact I made as a father was a good one?

I love my kids even on those days when they don’t like me. I’ve made lots of mistakes in parenting, but I’ve also seen great results from the qualities I’ve instilled that help them in life. But does the sum of averages adorn me with a ribbon for being a good father over all?

I guess we’ll have to wait and see what’s engraved on my tombstone. In the meantime, I’m working hard to figure out how to be an even better grandpa. After all, grandpas make a great impact in their grandkid’s lives too.