"My Father's Golf Game . . . "

(I hope you'll indulge a bit of recycling for today's post.  It's a piece I wrote in 2009 in recognition of Father's Day.)


Okay, this one's gonna be . . . mmmmmm . . . well, I don't quite know what this one's going to be. So I'll make you a deal, I'll just start typing - and you just keep reading - and we'll both see where this ends up.

My father and I have always had a somewhat strained relationship. I swear, if you do a google image search for "distant, silent type," there might actually BE an picture of my dad. In spite of this, he had an indelible effect on the man I became. He had strict requirements of his two boys; impeccable manners, promptness, an exacting work ethic, consistent oil changes, and honesty.

I have always looked back, with a certain amount of humour, on what my parents MUST have thought of the practically alien creature that I MUST have seemed as a child. My abiding hope is that my folks would lay in bed at night and smile with wonder at most of the drama that always seemed to surround me. There were four of us in our home. My retired military father. My high school beauty queen mother. My incredibly athletic older brother. And me - rehearsing Bach for hours each day - obsessively fussing over my wardrobe - and pouring through design magazines. My father played golf. I played the organ. To say that we never had much in common is kind of overstating the *very* obvious.

But, I'll call Dad this afternoon to wish him a Happy Father's Day. We'll have a stiff, stilted conversation about his golf game and my gas mileage. We'll most likely both be a bit uncomfortable. But, I know that it would break his heart if I didn't call. I also know that he loves me. He knows that I love him. And, damn it, I'll make sure that we both say so. My father would want it that way. He taught me good manners - and more importantly - honesty.



Cheryl said…
Love this. One of the finest posts I've read in a long time.
Cyndia said…
Scot, despite your differences, knowing that your dad loves you and that you love him is pretty damned good in my eyes. I never knew that from mine.
What a wonderful post, worth repeating (although I don't remember reading it last year).
Have a relaxing day.
Merlin said…
You made me cry. I miss my dad...he may have been your father's "long lost brother." franki
Barbara from MA said…
Your post really touched me.
I don't know how I stumbled on this…except that I think I follow all of your work! LOL! Anyway…this was amazing and I just wanted to be able to tell you that. No matter our differences as parents or children, brothers or sisters, etc…as long as we know that we both love each other then that's half the battle if not more in my opinion. What I loved most about this post is your honesty…it was definitely from the heart and something that touched me very much. Thank you!
Carolyn Bradford
So precious. I love this so much. Sounds like a father I know.. several actually. Sometimes breaking down the basics (he loves you and you love him) is what it takes..
You seem like the kind of guy who does the right thing.. this post a fine example.
Another fine post Scot. The way you coin a phrase always touches my heart: sincere, honest, and with an upbeat conclusion. Shiree'
mikky said…
Hi Scot,

Really nice post, definitely worthy of recycling. The oil changes part reminds me of my Dad.
Hope you had a nice conversation this year with your Dad. Wondering if he ever read this post and what he thinks of it?

CeceliaMc said…
I don't know a thing about your father other than that he is blessed to have a son who so obviously loves him.

I don't know a thing other than that the man is blessed.
Love this post! I laughed because without fail, one of the first things my dad asks is, "how is the car running?". We can also talk about the best route to get someplace for what seems like ages! N.G.
Arunincy said…
lovely post! I like this.

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