There's really no place to begin so Iíll start with an anecdote from Mark Twain. He said when he was a young man he thought his father was such an embarrassment he could hardly stand to be around him. After he left home for the first time, he returned a few years later and to his astonishment was amazed at how smart his father had become.
This thought comes back to me now as I remember my father who passed from this world on September 11th of this year. So now this date holds a double and deeper meaning for me.
He wasn't an educated man. He only made it to the eighth grade when supporting his mother and siblings became a far more important issue.
Necessity and experience bred in him that rare gift of common sense. I believe it carried him through the ups and downs of the Great Depression, World War II, the Korean conflict, the Civil Rights struggle, the Viet Nam debacle, the Cold War, and lastly, the ominous worldwide spread of terrorism.
He was first and foremost an American in the truest sense. I donít believe he favored any political party over another. He had lived long enough to outgrow that delusion. He was a member of the "old school" who preferred to make his own way with the God given gifts he possessed. These traits have become part of my inheritance.
Somehow he and my mother managed to raise ten children. He was strict and had little patience for any of us who would not adapt to his program of family survival. Naturally this raised a certain amount of derision and at one time or another we each had a falling out with him. Personally and regretfully, I didnít realize until years later what a huge responsibility he shouldered in just trying to keep us together.
He wasn't a teacher in an intellectual sense. He was a doer and a tireless one at that. He was also one of those individuals who had the ability to put his ideas into action and get results.
And now, with the Holiday season approaching, Iím reminded of a piece of the legacy he left my family. Iím sure he wouldn't want me to expound on this but, I believe it was something that he received the most satisfaction from. It involved his sympathetic nature towards children with mental and physical disabilities and the underprivileged ones in our society. Each year, through his civic group, he would arrange a free Christmas party in mid-December for them. He raised funds and sought donations of toys, candy, and ice cream from the business community. Then he would rent an auditorium, hire some local entertainers, and painstakingly piece the whole event together detail by detail. This tradition continued for 42 years.
I was just a boy when he started it. About 200 children attended the first one and my father encouraged the family to take part in the various preparations to pull it together. For weeks prior to the party I vividly remember all of us wrapping each present with bows and labeling them according to age and gender. Over the years more and more people volunteered to help out and the party grew in attendance to over 1,500 children annually.
After the entertainment the kids would line up, handicapped first, to be greeted and given gifts and treats by Santa Claus. It was only then that my father finally relaxed and pulled up a chair to watch their expressions. It brought tears to my eyes to see the joy and appreciation in the wide-eyed smiling faces of those innocent unfortunate children. Some were blind, some wheelchair bound, others mentally challenged, and the poor were from every ethnic background.
A wise man once said, "Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God."
So as I reflect upon my fatherís life Iím reminded of what good can be accomplished by any ordinary man and Iím amazed at how much wiser Iíve become.