My Dad

I'm a lot like my dad, I've discovered.

It's not really something I ever wanted to be but sometimes there are just things that you don't have any control over.

When I was a kid, my dad would draw Disney characters for me. He was good. He could just look at a character and recreate it on paper. Of all the talents that my parents have passed down to me (and there are many), the ability to draw has probably served me best. It forged my identity in school. After all, I was the kid who could draw Mickey Mouse. And, without it, I wouldn't have the career I have now.

There's an old saying that goes something like this: "It's funny how much my dad has learned over the years." The irony, of course, being that Dad had known plenty all along, if only I would have listened to him. Now that I'm a father myself, it all becomes oh so clear. Truly youth is wasted on the young.

Of course, as with everyone in my family, my dad is a character. He lives in Southern California but, with his cowboy hat and boots, he looks like he ought to be living in Texas. Or else he's in the right place but in the wrong time. He's a big John Wayne fan and we grew up with such Dadisms as "Never start a fight but if you end up in one, you'd better finish it" and "Never say you're sorry. It's a sign of weakness." Such things make my wife shudder. What am I going to teach our kids? But that's Dad. And there's at least a shadow of truth in those statements.

Of course, I don't know how anyone can stay married very long without ever apologizing.

And I'm not about to find out.

I suspect Dad doesn't know either.

But back in my youth, Dad was an innovator. In fact, he invented the television remote control. It was me! He'd tell me to get up off the couch and change the channel. When it wasn't a western, he'd have me up again changing it to another channel. When we finally got a TV that came with it's own remote, I thought I was off the hook. Unfortunately, it became my job to locate the remote control on a nightly basis. Either that, or I'd have to go back to my old job.

I know Dad loves his kids. He had transparent ways of showing it. Indeed, the fact that he was such a good artist, probably a better one than I am, and he gave up following any artistic endeavors so he could work in a factory to provide for his wife and family now speaks volumes to me.

My thoughts turn to my dad now. You see, he's in the hospital. He's been fighting cancer and, for the most part winning. Yesterday he was weak -- unable to stand -- and his heart was racing. So my mom called 911 and they rushed him to the hospital.

I have faith that it's just a bump in the road and he'll be back home shortly, continuing the fight as only John Wayne could.

But today I'm thinking about him.

And I'm praying for him.

I'd appreciate it if you would too.