Happy Birthday Dad

Yesterday was the anniversary of my Dad’s birthday. He passed away too soon. Dad would have been 78. He was a great man. Everyone who knew him, had at one point or another, bucked up against him thinking they were in the right. I can't think of a time when he didn't help us see the error in our ways. Dad's ability to see things in the "black and white,” form a judgment and present a well spoken opinion showed his superior intellect and maturity. I don't believe there was ever at time that when I asked him for advice (and when I truly listened to him) that I didn't receive advice worth the time spent asking. I believe that I am the man I am because of him. I know I'm not near perfect, nor was Dad, but Dad was a man who worked hard at being as good as a man as he could be. Dad was a stalwart figure who bravely faced life and bravely faced death. All who have met him have visions of his bravery. When I think about my Dad and when he showed me what it meant to be brave I think of Okinawa and our own little Alamo. The Okinawan’s were facing a lay off and Dad was the responsible party. Dad’s office was on Camp Kewi (sp) a Marine Hospital location. The gates were guarded by Okinawan’s who let the Mob on post without hesitation. My mind tells me that there were 1000’s of them. The Strikers had formed a Snake Dance. One Marcher holding the person in front at the waist marching and chanting, snaking and surging forward. All wore hardhats and bandanas over their faces. I know they felt their autonomy gave them power. I also knew that not a one of them would have faced my father unmasked. In my Dad’s building were my brother Mike, Dad and me. Dad had already called the Marines. He had locked the two glass doors to the building and stood there defiant, looking through the full glass door. I remember standing behind him, scared but solid. We would not run, we would not cower. Dad had his arms crossed in front of him staring into the masked faces that were pushing and shoving against the doors. The doors did not break, the Marines showed up and cleared out the strikers. I learned a lesson that day, I truly knew what a leader was. I had witnessed it. If those doors had broken there would have been a fight and we may have gotten bruised or even killed but we would not have lost, you see, my Dad wasn’t like a regular man and I don’t want to sound trite but my Dad was like Davy Crockett. I hope I can be like him. I can only try, like he did.