Yesterday was my daughter's fortieth birthday. That is a pretty big occasion, both for a person and for a parent. I spent the day remembering her birth, and the evening celebrating with her, my husband, my son-in-law and a couple of her friends. It was a wonderful day.
One of the memories that surfaced during the day was one that I hadn't thought about in years. My first husband and my daughter's father was a friend of my older brother. This meant that many of my first husband's friends were also my brother's friends.
On the night of the day that my daughter was born, a group of those friends showed up at my parent's house with a bottle of Old Grand Dad bourbon whiskey, to celebrate with my father the birth of his first grandchild. Now, if they had stayed at my parents house and sat around the kitchen or dining room table, the story could be more bland. That is not how it transpired.
The friends and my dad went to a local park (which had closed at dark) and sat in the deserted park drinking whiskey out of paper cups until the bottle was empty. They had a blast. My mother was not amused. There was no harm done, but had they been caught, it could have been very embarrassing. Everyone was old enough to drink, and ten guys and one bottle of whiskey is not a scary level of drinking, but while for the young men it was kind of age typical behavior, my mom thought my dad was simply to old to behave so recklessly.
And that brings me to the crux of this post. My dad was never really good at adulting.
Don't get me wrong. He went to work every day. He carried more than his fair share of parenting duties, of household duties, and of lawn duties. He volunteered in the community. He volunteered at church. He drove the bus for our drum and bugle corps, and chaperoned our road trips.
But he did it all with the lighthearted joy of a child.
Sure, he had bad moments and bad days, just like we all do. But when I remember my dad, I remember him smiling and laughing. I remember the person who everyone wanted to be around at every party, because that was where all the laughter was coming from. I remember him dressing as a clown to take us trick or treating at Halloween, and never saying a word while in his clown costume. I remember him doing tricks on my bicycle when he was teaching me to ride.
Looking back, I know it put more of a burden on my mom because my dad was such a kid at heart. Mom had to be the one that enforced stopping fun and getting work done. Because when we were playing with Daddy, he never wanted it to end just like we didn't want the fun to end. When my daughter was small, I remember him watching Sesame Street with her and enjoying the show as much as she did.
Daddy was usually the last to leave any party, because he was having so much fun. Over the years, he went to work on too little sleep too many times, but it just meant he fell asleep watching television really early the next night.
My dad had the rare gift of meeting all his responsibilities, and taking on responsibilities he didn't have to, all while remaining very much a child at heart. Always able to experience the wonder of a child, always able to experience the joy. He never lost the ability to connect with children in their world. To participate in the imagination games, and to do so with gusto.
And that is why I am so proud to be George's daughter, and why I try so hard to be like him. Just because you have to meet your responsibilities, just because you have to make difficult decisions and discipline yourself, it doesn't mean you have to be glum or hopeless or angry or overwhelmed.
The joy is always there. That child is always in you. The one who got excited by a ladybug or a butterfly. The child who could color and be proud of staying in the lines. The child who loved to run and spin in circles. The child who loved to sing. The child who was happy just because the sun was shining and they had a dog to pet.
I'm so grateful that I got to watch my dad maintain his childlike wonder and joy. I'm so glad I got to watch him tease my mother until she remembered to see the joy too.
When I look back at the life I lived with my mom and dad growing up, I realize my mother struggled with depression and anxiety for most of her life. And Daddy was always protecting her, and boosting her morale, and making her laugh. Even though she had to be the one to call time on the fun, he never fussed her, he thanked her, and would tell us kids how lucky we were to have such a great mom.
So I encourage all of you to be like George. Watch out for those who are struggling, and tell them they are doing a great job. Meet your obligations, but don't be burdened by them. Find the joy, and celebrate it. Not only will your own life be greatly enriched, but you will enrich the lives of all those you meet.
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