Yesterday marked the 44th anniversary of my father's death.
A tough and stoic man, he left a firm impression upon me.
From him I learned to persevere as I dedicate myself to causes important to my heart even when relinquishing the drive to solve/fix/repair/adjust would be far more advantageous than the stubbornness I possess.
Education was of vast importance to my dad.
A teacher, coach, and administrator, he recognized the value of learning for professional success as well as personal, life achievement.
Ahead of his time in many ways, he believed things like the fact that English teachers should have an extra preparation period so that they could require students to write more on a vast number of topics and also have time to respond and score the papers.
An extra prep? For English? Some would respond, "Ludicrous!" My father believed in consolidating schools and school districts.
Although he appreciated the attachment that small communities feel to a school, he knew that a larger facility afforded more opportunities for a variety of classes and instructors.
When combining was improbable or impossible, he sought out correspondence courses.
Long before the Internet made distance education from just about any point on the globe, my father organized classes by correspondence.
Thus even a school with just 60 K-12 students could offer French, German, advanced algebra, matrix geometry, and world literature.
My dad knew how to seize opportunity and share it with others.
My dad also saw the value of learning communities.
He rearranged neighborhood elementary schools so that all students kindergarten, first and second were in the same building.
His idea was that collaboration among teachers would spread to excellence for children.
The same held true for third and fourth, fifth and sixth.
You can well imagine the mad mamas and daddies with such an enormous change, a leap of astronomical proportions when stepping out of a paradigm and moving the conceptual to reality.
This is one reason why we only stayed four or five years in each district.
Change is hard; staying the same is safe.
My dad loved the out-of-doors.
We camped and picnicked, boated and hiked, skied and fished.
He seemed to know every plant, rock, and mineral.
He could name streams and mountain peaks, valleys and canyons.
I listened to him with open mind and ears, but I pretty much failed to remember most of his lessons since I knew he would always be there.
With liberal politics I learned to look out for those less fortunate, to offer education instead of money, food instead of coins.
While my dad provided many a child with lunch, it was never a free lunch.
"People appreciate things more when they have something at stake" he'd remind me.
He understood and worked for desegregation; he recognized the wide range of religious beliefs.
He saw potential in each child and helped elevate each one's learning and understanding, keeping the door of many prospects wide open.
Again, an education might not make someone "smart" but it could make him or her intelligent.
While I was pretty scared of my dad, fearful of disappointing him, my friends found him a delight.
He laughed and joked with them, encouraged and gave them guidance.
Most of them were far more comfortable kidding with him than I ever was or could be.
Maybe this sounds strange, especially in this world of close father-daughter bonding, but I understood he just wanted me to work hard and succeed.
His expectations were high but achievable.
And although I loved him, I often doubted that he cared that much about me.
My mother filled that gap and added, "You know your father loves you.
" Even after 44 years without his vitality and reliability next to me, I feel his presence.
The loss of a Dad gets a bit easier over time but the pain and emptiness linger forever.
Memories replace gaps; reflections fill holes.
But nothing ever supplants his being.
My dad taught me many lessons over the years but the most valuable gift that he left behind was the acknowledgment that death is final.
There is no chance to say, "I'm sorry", no chance to complete a range of good deeds with that beloved person in mind.
All I can do is try to live my life by expressing love, helping others, spreading education and learning, and trying to do good.
My mother had a far kinder daughter after my father died.
I realized that sometimes the chance to say and do the right thing comes just once.