Walking With My Father
It is a sad thing to admit, but I do not have many memories about my father; not too many good or great ones, but none too bad either. Still, this one thing I cannot deny, the few memories which I possess have shaped a large part of the man that I am today – for better or for worse. This includes memories about the longest two hours that I ever spent with my father as a young boy of about ten years old.
On this fateful day, my father and I took a trip to a utility bill paying station to settle some accounts. I did not see this moment as anything but a spur-of-the-moment thing, but whatever my father’s motivation was for taking me on a two-hour stroll, it remains the one-time event that we shared, and I still remember it to this day. It was just one of those things that we did once and that was that.
As a young boy my mood during this errand ranged from feeling very special to feeling very annoyed because two hours of fast walking at a grown-man pace is a trial of one’s patience. To make matters worse, I did not even get a proper reward for participating in this errand. My only reward for going on this “great adventure” was the raging sunburn the sun gifted me from the two hours of exposure to too much ultraviolet light.
Honestly, I could have tortured myself just as effectively playing with my friends in the streets. Obviously, my father did not mean me any harm, of that I am sure. We just did not do many father-son things on a regular basis and so his oversight for protection from the sun was simply that, an oversight.
The actual hours that I spent with my father as a boy and even later as a man do not amount to a whole lot, but they have left me with a deep understanding and appreciation for his physical and inner strength. My father was not exactly a street brawler, but he had a certain reputation as a no-nonsense man and was rightly feared and respected. From his younger years in the streets, he was known to be a fearless fighter. In his own way, he fought for his own rights and for the rights of others. He fought first with his words and if that did not resolve the issues, he was not afraid to fight with his hands and fists. From my childhood I do not remember him being this way, but his reputation was always in the whispers in the atmosphere. I know that he did not want me to fight in the streets because fighting is hard. People get hurt when they fight, and one does not always win in a street fight. Still a man must raise a boy somehow, and that is what my father tried to do with me on our two hour round trip. Sometimes in life a man might have to deal with that which he is not prepared to do, but it is a lot easier when you are prepared. So is life.
I understood from the way my father treated my older siblings that there were no special children in my father’s house. We all knew how tough he could be, and we all wanted to see the pleasant side of his face more often. The pleasant side of his face was not always what we saw. He was a serious man, a hardworking man, a provider, and a protector. To see life from his point of view meant learning to stand up to the hardships in life. A man must learn to walk into the sun even if it scorched him red. This was my fathers’ prescription for manhood. I did not die and through the pain I lived to walk another day. I think that I became a man on that day.
To folks looking in from the outside it might have looked as though my father was uncaring and harsh. They would be wrong. Like all men everywhere, my father raised me up after his own understanding and appreciation of the difficulties of life. He was purposeful in molding me into someone who would survive, even conquer the trials that life would bring my way. He loved me fiercely, but he knew that his fierce love would protect me only while I was under his wings.
My father knew better than most what a boy like myself must prepare to deal with on the outside world. He took me to the edge of the sun, as close to the flames as his love could stand to watch. It is a strange way to show love to your child, to teach them that they must learn to overcome certain limits to earn the right to live freely. The world outside is larger than a two-hour walking radius and is way more cruel than the burning sun. That is exactly what he taught me in that silence which accompanied our long walk into the sun.
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It has been at least thirty years since the great walk event and I still cannot remember what we talked about that day. My small legs and feet just could not keep up with his grown-man stride, so every so often I found myself jogging a little to catch up with him. In my eyes my father was a big, strong, and capable man who did very little talking, but who also did everything with purpose, a display of great human strength. This march to the utility center was some type of mission that required very few words but required focus and a great deal of human strength. Focus and strength that my young self did not yet possess. Doing anything fast and doing it well was not a skill that I possessed at that time.
As an adult I have learned the truth that life is not a round-trip journey around the neighborhood. Adults do not always find their way back home. Sometimes you just cannot turn around and go back the way you came. Sometimes the destination is not where you thought it would be. You might have to walk close to the sun, hand in hand with fate, but a man always gets the job done. I have been through a lot in my life. My journey thus far has led me to many beautiful places, but I have also taken many treacherous turns along the way. Maybe this is what my father wanted to inspire in me, the willingness to put in the work until I found my own place. I am glad he did that for me.