-- John Steinbeck
In honor of Father’s Day the below is a re-write of two posts I previously put up here about my Dad. Happy Father’s Day, Daddy!
My father was a great father. Like all great fathers, one of the things which made him great was that he was a great teacher. He also managed to be those things and be a friend. Combine all of it, and he became one of my greatest heroes as well.
My Dad died some years back. He got out of the shower one night, had a massive heart attack and that was it. As bad as it was (and for me it was a great darkness), I still say that’s the way to go - so fast you don’t know what hit you.
Dad was a tough guy - a man’s man; but, he was loving and giving to his kids. He would praise us often for doing well in school, or in some other effort. He didn’t spank or yell, but if you dis-obeyed the rules you would be grounded - and you DID NOT ask for early reprieve on a grounding. There were no bicycling privileges when you were grounded. We were required to spend our time only in our yard, and in contemplation of how we would improve ourselves and amend our ways. Consequently, we followed Daddy’s rules.
I was the worst of the three of us, getting a two-week grounding (with the bicycle put up on high hooks in the garage). I had ridden said bike outside of the approved area for riding my bike without an adult. I rode it all the way down to the creek and was riding it through a culvert when Dad came looking for me. I had been gone a long time. This rule was (of course) one for my own safety. I never did it again.
My Dad was a mechanic and a machinist. He did the machinist thing as his main livelihood (the man could fix or fabricate *anything*), and he did the auto-mechanicin’ at night and on the weekends. When I was a kid, he raced go-karts. Before my time, he raced other stuff. All of it was just local - in Texas; but, I grew up with cars on my mind, and racing as my favorite sport to watch.
When I got old enough to hold a wrench (or any other tool), I was out in the garage learning from Dad, and when I got old enough to know what I was doing (about 15), I was actually working on cars with my Dad.
Dad didn’t work on new cars - he restored and worked on old American cars (you know, the kind before they put computers in them). I was right there with him, up to my elbows in grease.
Once the work was done, it was time for a cold brew (when I was legal). I would go inside and get two bottles and bring them out to the garage. The two of us would lean back against the workbench with our refreshment and feel the relief which can only come from cold beer after a hard day’s work. Then the family would all get dressed and we’d go out for Mexican food. Daddy and I would frequently go play pool afterward. We were notorious for playing until three in the morning.
While hanging out with my Dad, I was learning a lot more than just cool stuff about cars and racing. I was learning about work ethic, integrity, and the importance of approaching a project with organization, focus and the right state of mind.
My Dad was a high-school dropout who later got his GED, but the man was wicked smart. He was an autodidact. He read anything and everything, and absorbed it like a sponge. He had a red-neck Texas accent, but you’d be a fool to think he wasn’t smart. He made straight A’s in high school English before he dropped out. He could speak perfect English if he wanted to, and he could discuss physics with you if you were smart enough to keep up. It was from this Renaissance man I learned to value the acquisition of knowledge, and to strive for constant improvement of myself.
All men should strive to be the kind of father my father was.
Think about it - this man disciplined his children without threats, spanking or yelling. He was firm and consistent, and he showed love and praise often.
Don’t get me wrong, he got angry; but, his anger was a controlled and calm kind of anger. His was a stern look and “Don’t ever do that again.” And that was it. No histrionics or drama. Just a firm and serious reminder of what was right and what was wrong. I never argued with him, or questioned him - not out of fear, but out of admiration and respect - and *love*.
He was a man of remarkable character and ethics. Streams of people consistently remarked on this at his funeral - and it was standing room only that day. A man such as this compels people to come and pay respect.
He also had a great sense of humor, and a terrific laugh. He was, and still is, the best Dad a girl could ever have. He was Louie - teacher, friend, hero - Father.
I wish you could have known my Dad, because you would have been like every friend I ever had who knew him. You would have said “Your Dad is soooo COOL!”
Yes, he was.
Every race I watch on TV, or go to live, I know he’s right there sitting next to me enjoying every second. I know he’s in my corner no matter what I’m doing. He’s ready to whisper advice in my ear and remind me about the right way to do things - anything. His spirit will always be near me, because he’s there, and because he left so much a part of himself in *my* spirit.
He was Louie, and I am lucky enough to be Louie’s Kid.
I know he’s out there driving down Heaven’s roads, winding through Elysian fields, golden sun shining down, wind across his face, laughter in his wake.
Drive on, Daddy, drive on!
Polla Filia,
J.F.
