My Men

Usually, my writings are about women. The whole blog was based upon the idea that women could relate to me chasing my passion, that more than likely they had passions of their own that they had shelved while raising a family. Today, let’s focus on the men.

My men, three generations who also have shelved their passions in the pursuit of the largest purpose ever given to a man- to be a positive roll model for their children. To be the hero of their families stories. It is with more love and gratitude than I can even muster that I give you My Men.

Chapter one: My Dad

For me of course, the story starts with my Dad. He was born the second of four children to a hard working Father and a Mother, who would be the caretaker of the family up until her death when my Father was still quite young. He grew up mainly in a train station where my Grandfather worked. I’ve been told that chickens ran freely throughout the station and that my Grandfather never missed a day of work. Hard work ethic was something that he learned early, although I suspect from the stories I’ve heard that he found time for a decent amount of mischief. He was not a good student, because most subjects didn’t interest him. He wanted to be a cowboy and a pilot, and live a life much different then his father did. His grades would improve when an inspirational teacher Mrs. Fryburg would allow him to read and study subjects of interest. Reading cowboy stories and stories of flight and fantasy. Not surprising to this day he say’s that if you meet five people in heaven like the popular book suggests, he hopes one of his five is Mrs. Fryburg.

My Dad went on to own a horse, Lady. He loved riding her with his friends. He also became a licensed pilot, would race cars, learn to play the guitar and joined the military, serving in Korea. Upon his return from Korea, he married my Mom and just shy of nine years later, they had me, the last of five children. When I was born with a congenital heart defect, it rocked his world. He talks about it often, even today, and in over fifty years of telling the stories about those days of fear and struggle it’s never been told without a tear.

My father never became a commercial airline pilot, having signed up to take his commercial test, and having it fall near my heart surgery date he would be too preoccupied to pass- a disappointment to him. Instead, for most of his life, he did construction. He provided for his family, and my mom and the five of us kids were blessed that he had such a strong work ethic. He worked hard and played hard, teaching us kids about baseball, country music, story telling and so much more. He was the dreamer in the family, making sure we knew “If we could imagine it we could do it.” Eventually, he became a business owner and put most of us kids on the payroll. He was a hard boss, and made sure we all knew the value of hard work and that has been a legacy he is proud of.

Never a dull moment, he was always quick tempered and more than once found himself on the inside of a squad car. Once throwing a heavy metal train through the window of a car that would speed pass our front yard while us kids played. He was filmed by a local cable show at our school charging the wrestling matt after a match gone wrong, and I watched as a child as three officers tried to catch him on foot while he roller skated around a roller-rink with precision. We had been there, just the two of us to skate, a passion we both shared. I was learning to waltz, foxtrot and alike. At some point during the “couples dance” I was told by the owner of the rink that I “wasn’t really good enough to be out on the floor with the others” who were all instructors- Trust me when I say that you don’t want to tell a child they’re not good enough in front of their parent- ever. So his refusal for us to leave the floor turned into a true life police escapade after the owner literally called the police on an ten year old and her Dad for continuing to skate. Later in his older years, the troubles would be more localized to home improvement stores, grand kids sporting events and Panera Bread…all stories for another post. It’s always been one story or another. Stories which make a full life. This was a man who always allowed me to play beauty shop on his thick white hair, complete with curlers. The mountain of a man who would sneak away from his table of co-workers in the morning so that he could use the pay phone to call home and pretend that he was my favorite storybook prince, creating lifelong memories.

I could go on for pages and pages of stories, but stories don’t always convey what you need to say. Sometimes the words although fun to read are not enough- I wish that people could feel how I feel. I wish that all little girls grew up knowing that their father had their backs. I wish that everyone had been brought up with a good work ethic and had seen their fathers work like I saw mine work.

My father is half way to his eighty seventh birthday now. We talk daily, usually multiple times. When he’s in Michigan we see each other several times a week. We enjoy Gin and Tonics together and I enjoy anytime I can have him for dinner, or share a hot tea and cookies. I do not take these visit’s for granted. During the quarantine we didn’t see each other for a month or maybe more- than I got the idea that I would call him and video chat so that I could see his face. It was going to be fun! Instead we both spent about three minutes sobbing before we had to hang up, regroup and trying again later in the day. It had been too long, it was too hard to not have him here- drinking tea or having coffee- or sharing that G and T I mentioned above. There is an entire long life of love, respect and gratitude that I have for him. My husband likes to joke and say that all I ever needed to do to make my Dad proud was survive my surgeries. I suppose there is a hint of truth to that, but really he wanted the “life” that came after the survival. He wanted me to “live, experience and enjoy” and I have, because for over fifty years I’ve had a security blanket of his support and love. He has been my biggest cheerleader. Because of him, I knew what to look for in a man, what to expect from hard work and how to never give up- even on days when it’s hard to see what you’re fighting for. I owe this to my Dad.
Love ya Daddy-O.

Chapter two: My husband

I met my husband when I was seventeen, at a high school party our senior year. The original meeting was mainly lackluster – but the second time we met a few weeks later was the last time I ever looked at anyone else.

I was seventeen, he was eighteen and had just joined the Army National Guard. He was to leave for boot camp after we graduated high school. Graduation came in May and on July 29th we got engaged. A year later almost to the date we were married. Two crazy kids who against all odds will celebrate thirty four years next month.

Three and a half years later, we became parents. Much like my father, my husband is a hard working man with dreams of his own. We bought a restaurant three weeks after our son was born and it was like running into a hurricane every day. One step forward and someday’s, nine steps back. We were young, ambitious and hard working. We worked from sun up to sun down and our Son was with us all the while. Growing up in a baby seat on the counter of the kitchen or bar- Somedays being passed from customer to customer as we worked. This pace is not something anyone can put up with and God had other plans for how our life should look- soon we found ourselves living back at home with our folks, paying off restaurant debt and pregnant with our second child.

Now the father of two, and with most of the restaurant hurdles behind us my husband also found himself doing construction work to pay the bills. Fatherhood aside, our situation was about as far from a dream life as he could have imagined for himself, we were still living with my folks and had two kids in our room now. Our daughter in a crib on one side of the room, our Son on a fold out bed on the other. But here’s the thing about real men, they will always do the right thing. They will always do what’s needed for their family, and he did just that.

Eventually, life lifted up the pressure and we were living in our own home. In addition to his full time job my husband was taking classes, becomes a firefighter and an EMT. He became dive rescue certified and was coaching T-ball, baseball and eventually football for over a decade. (Remember, I have a history with hard working men)

Fast forward: Today our kid’s are thirty and twenty eight years old. They have grown with the same blessing I did, knowing that their Father is their biggest fan, close friend and that there is nothing he wouldn’t do for them. They have watched a man who has taken his responsibilities seriously and has treated their mother well. My husband ended up becoming a business owner as well, joining into the same field that my Father had followed. For twenty years he has worked this business to provide for his children and has been that example everyone should have. God has rewarded his life with Children who are his friends, and seven Grandchildren who light up his life. The love continues…

I can’t say enough about my husband. We have been through it- lot’s of it. For richer or poorer, better or worse, sickness and health. He has been the father that I prayed my children would have. He is our rock, our steady, our calm in a storm. There isn’t much more a family could ask for.

Chapter three: My Son & Son in law

This chapter of fatherhood is still fairly fresh, it’s book is just starting. It has all the makings to be a wonderful story. Men who are loving, accepting and hard working. Men who want their children to grow up to be productive, loving, members of society. Men who strive to bring stability, and laughter to their children.

I see the traits that have been passed on from generation after generation. They start with a foundation thats built on good strong ground. My Grandchildren will look back on life one day and know that they were raised by Men who loved them, and that above all else will be the building block for the generation of men who will be next- Wow, do I hope I’m still here to witness that.

It is with love and pride that I mention these men this Father’s day. I am a product of them all, I am who I am because of each one of them. So to My Men, I say “Thank you, and I love you.”

Till next time- Erin