Goodbye Dad...
I learned many things under your watch, including how to ride a bike. Like most, I suspect, it didn't take long before I rode out of view, testing the scope of what was possible, how far I could power myself. Those first tentative wheel revolutions have led to tens of thousands of miles over the years since that first, and helped to open a world of possibility and adventure. For that I am grateful.
In the end that is the best a parent can do - set us on a good path, the kind that will lead us where ever we are willing to go; offer advice, help when needed, or asked, but ultimately letting us find our own way in the world. So, for all the math questions, motor problems, giving up weekends (and sometimes weeks) for backpacking and canoeing trips with the scouts, breaking up countless fights with the brother, instilling an appreciation for a job well done, providing for our needs (and often wants), surprising us (such as the time you jumped on my bike to chase down the neighborhood troublemaker), stringing lights on the house each Christmas, setting out the flag on holidays, and all the other countless little things that we never appreciated until much later. No one outside the family will know, or remember your own adventures - the hand-built cabin in the Rockies, going a month (yow) without a proper shower during the Korean War, the sometimes mysterious work (to me anyway) you did with Lockheed, all these things that set an example, gave us something to strive for.
When my own son was born I, in many ways, learned to view the world from a different perspective - the view from the eyes of a child, a view filled with fun, hope, adventure. I hope I was able to give you some of that when I was the child and your life was filled with the concerns of an adult. So, here's to you dad, and the life that you lived, and the lives that you gave your family.
Richard Wagner (1932-2013)
In the end that is the best a parent can do - set us on a good path, the kind that will lead us where ever we are willing to go; offer advice, help when needed, or asked, but ultimately letting us find our own way in the world. So, for all the math questions, motor problems, giving up weekends (and sometimes weeks) for backpacking and canoeing trips with the scouts, breaking up countless fights with the brother, instilling an appreciation for a job well done, providing for our needs (and often wants), surprising us (such as the time you jumped on my bike to chase down the neighborhood troublemaker), stringing lights on the house each Christmas, setting out the flag on holidays, and all the other countless little things that we never appreciated until much later. No one outside the family will know, or remember your own adventures - the hand-built cabin in the Rockies, going a month (yow) without a proper shower during the Korean War, the sometimes mysterious work (to me anyway) you did with Lockheed, all these things that set an example, gave us something to strive for.
When my own son was born I, in many ways, learned to view the world from a different perspective - the view from the eyes of a child, a view filled with fun, hope, adventure. I hope I was able to give you some of that when I was the child and your life was filled with the concerns of an adult. So, here's to you dad, and the life that you lived, and the lives that you gave your family.
Thanks for reading folks. I will return to matters of cycling shortly.
So sorry I missed this until now. You have my deepest sympathy for your loss, Michael, and my prayers go out to you and all your family, as well as for your father.
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