Father’s Day

"And that's how I struck out Babe Ruth, son."

My father died when I was sixteen years old. It’s one of those few, unique events, that permanently change your life and how you look at it. As I write this, 12 years later, it’s still the tragedy of my life. Most days I don’t think about it. To this day, though, I can be driving down the road, have that feeling of loss hit me, and I’ll tear up and feel like I’m about to fall to pieces. Not often. But occasionally. If you’ve lost someone that you really loved, you probably know what I’m talking about.

My wife, Rachel, and I spent father’s day in Florida, visiting her father. He’s a good one. I’m glad we got to see him. He was and is a good father, the kind I aspire to be. He’s patient, and kind, and driven. He lives for his work and his children. If I can do half as well I’ll be happy. When Rachel and I have children (God willing), he’ll make an awesome grandpa.

Anyway, the fact that it was father’s day kind of had me reflecting on my dad. At least, that was part of it. Another part is the fact that I’m currently reading Are We Winning by Will Leitch (which has nothing to do with finance or investing, but is excellent nonetheless). It’s filled with all kinds of anecdotes about baseball and fathers and sons. The biggest part of it, I’d have to say, is a guy named Kevin I met over the weekend.

On Saturday we went to my aunt and uncle’s house for my cousin’s graduation party (congratulations Mel!). They live in one of those neighborhoods where everyone is friends with pretty much everyone else, and most of the neighborhood was at the party. Lots of fun, interesting people. One of the most interesting was this guy, Kevin, a successful salesman. Very charismatic guy. Extreme extrovert. We’re sitting around, sipping beers, and this guy Kevin is cutting up, and he’s got a big crowd. And he starts doing the best Rodney Dangerfield impression I’ve ever heard, and everyone’s rolling.

As the day wears on and the sun starts to set, we’re still sitting out there, staring at the water, talking about oil spills, business, sales, law, marriage and life. The crowd has dwindled a little bit, and, not for the first time that day, Kevin starts talking about his dad, who passed away recently. He’s talking about what a great guy he was, how many people’s lives he touched, and how much he missed him. I listen intently, but don’t say anything about my own father because (a) I don’t want to interrupt this guy’s flow and (b) I don’t want to get into it (I pride myself in being able to not make everything about me).

Kevin keeps talking and eventually says a line I’ve heard many times, from many people. It’s some variation of the following: If I can be half the man my dad was, I’d really be something special. You didn’t have to be especially insightful to see how proud Kevin was of his dad. As I heard him talk the night away, with a crowd of people’s attention at his disposal, I couldn’t help but think, that the feeling must have been mutual.

All this got me thinking about my own father. Sort of a perfect storm, if you will. I’m not going to start telling stories about my dad. I have them. Everyone does. But I don’t feel like I could capture him. Not in 1000 words on a personal finance blog, the day after Father’s Day. None of the stories would be enough. And I’m not ready to share something on this blog that I can barely talk about at home, anyway;) But it got me thinking about the things that he was that I’m not, and I’m not sure I can be. It got me thinking about fatherhood in general, and what a big responsibility it is, and how scary it must be. There are some things I’m confident I’ll be able to do well. I could teach someone how to hit a curveball (stay back!), change a tire or value a company. I worry I won’t be able to teach someone how to be a good, honest person. I’m not sure I can teach anyone how to be brave. I don’t know how I’ll teach someone how to be nice to the people that the other kids are mean to. I don’t know how I’ll be able to do a lot of things. My dad was up to the task. So was Kevin’s. So was Will Leitch’s. I’m honestly not sure I am. And I guess that’s what makes our dads so amazing. So….Happy Father’s Day. I hope it was a good one. Thanks for reading.