One of the Two Most Important Jobs on Earth

I wanted to wish a happy Heavenly Father's Day to one of the toughest, most kind-hearted, and funniest people ever to walk the planet. He could fix anything, was always ready to help, he always wore cologne (which was sometimes a special blend of several different kinds), there was always a sharp crease in his jeans, and a shine on his shoes. He was never a bore, always authentic, and somehow self-conscious and confident all at once.

It's been almost six years since you left us and it never gets easier but I guess you just find a way to carry it with you. One thing is for sure, no one has ever been able to make me laugh quite like him.

I was seventeen, days after graduating high school. He was getting ready for work when he sat me down and told me he could get me a job in his fabrication shop as a welder’s apprentice. It’s not that I wasn’t grateful. It would have been a decent living but I, reluctantly, told him I had other plans. I was going to enroll in college and wanted to be a writer.

I could tell by the look on his face right after I uttered those words that something between us shifted. It was like something inside of him was wounded but another part of him was proud. I think this might have been the precise moment he stopped looking at me as a child.

After I moved from Columbus, Ohio to Minnesota in 1995 I tried to visit as often as I could. He even made the trip here from Ohio several times throughout the years. We spent some great, quality time together. When we were face-to-face; it was always as if we were trying to make up for lost time. One particular memory stands out.

I'll preface the next part of this story by saying Dad had a wild streak and as it turns out I do too but mine is just buried a little more deeply and takes some coaxing.

It was late summer of 2000. Dad was visiting and I had just finished a patio in the backyard from reclaimed cobblestones and slabs of marble from the rubble of James J. Hill’s office building in downtown St. Paul. As the sun was going down a chill settled on us quickly. I had a chimenea and plenty of oak logs so we stoked up a blazing fire.

For my birthday, in June of that year, some friends had bought me a gift card to a local brewery where you could make and bottle your own wine. I had decided on merlot and ended up with about four cases worth. Dad and I decided to uncork one of those bottles, the wine wasn’t that great but we didn’t care. As the sun dipped lower and the fire grew hotter one bottle turned into four. Then we had the bright idea of calling as many relatives as we could think of just to say hello.

After making all of our important telephone calls we decided it would be wise to switch to blackberry brandy, Jagermeister, then Bacardi. Whatever was left in those bottles was drained. Early evening turned into the wee hours of the morning. He opened up and shared so many stories that night about his younger days that I’d never heard before. I learned so much and saw a side of my dad I never knew existed. We laughed until our sides hurt. It was as though his younger self traveled through time just to spend that evening with me. I felt like I was hanging out with my best friend more than spending time with the man who raised me.

The sun rose that next morning with me sleeping in a chair with my jacket still on, bent forward with my head resting on my knees. Dad managed to make it to the bedroom floor and woke up fully dressed the next morning with one missing shoe and sock.

I was on the couch the entire next day and couldn't even manage to get chicken soup down until around six that night. I was hung over for at least 36 hours. Dad claimed he was fine that next day but was sweating profusely and kept leaving the house to “take walks”. I strongly suspected these walks consisted of him getting sick in someone's bushes.

The night before was pure insanity. It was as though a tornado picked us up, whirled us around, and set us down. But you know what? All the pain and suffering of that particular hangover was worth it. Miraculously, I remember every last bit of that evening and I wouldn’t trade those memories for anything else in the world.

Happy Father’s day to all you dads out there. Being a father is one of the two most important jobs on Earth. When it’s done properly it gives children a great advantage—a much better chance of making it in this world. I was very lucky in this regard. I made a slew of different choices than my father. It was, in large part, because of the fact he provided me with the security, freedom, and opportunity to follow a different path. Thanks for everything Dad. I still think about you every single day.

All for now. Thanks so much for reading.