Ode to My Father

I am sure most of you don't wake up on a Sunday morning, coffee in hand, expecting a deep discussion on world history, politics, religion or economic theory. On any given Sunday, thruout my life, that is something I have come to expect from my father and I have taken it for granted most of my life.

Do we ever fully appreciate our parents? My mother died 6 months after my first child was born almost 17 years ago, and I miss her deeply. She was a one of a kind and it is her backbone that I have in my spine. It is her love for the hurt and the weak and the oppressed that I have in my heart. It is her courage and convictions that are in my soul.

But it is my mind that belongs to my Dad. My father has shaped my world view more than any person or any book that is in my large library. His kind of intellect is based on logic and a vast knowledge base honed over his 73 years. In my younger years, I listened on our Sunday's but I didn't ever fully comprehend the importance of the knowledge that was being given to me.

Today, a Sunday, it really hit me. These discussions are like the puzzle pieces of life with the borders put together and the inner structure completed enough to see the bigger picture. Like fathers handing down the family tools, my father was handing me the keys to the future. I hope I can use them well and then pass them on to my children with the same care and patience. So far, it looks like they are definitely ahead of the curve that I was on.