June 17

This weekend is Fathers' Day. As I reflect on the the wonderful memories of my Dad, I am grateful that I had a Dad who was at my side every step of the way. He went the way of all human flesh in January 2003. There is not a day that I don't think of him and I carry within me memories of a man of faith, of strength, a provider. Imperfect as he was (aren't we all?) he tried hard to be the best Dad.

My Dad was a WWII Vet. He fought in the Battle of the Bulge. We knew he was wounded twice, but that was about all. Like so many of the "greatest generation", he rarely talked of the War. I wish now that I would have pumped him for more information. Upon his death we found in our attic some letters of commendation and a box of medals. We never knew they existed.

He was a Steel Worker and Pipe-fitter by trade. Never finished school, but he had more common sense than a Harvard Ph.D. He could do anything. I know, we all say that about our dads. That's okay. If you had or have a Dad, it's perfectly acceptable to sing his praises.

Dad was a man of faith - in a simple kind of way. He loved the Church, his parish and the priests. There was nobody, in Dad's book, like our old pastor in Morrisville. They were kind of alike when I think about it. No nonsene. No frills. Shot from the hip. You got what you saw. It was the heart that identified them both. Diamonds in the rough. Yeah, that was dad and that was the man who ran our local parish church.

I once commented to Dad that I had one regret in life and it was that I never served in the military like he did. I still sometime have this regret. Dad's response was: I served enough and saw enough war for all my three sons. One of my bro's did put five years in the Air Force.

As I said, Dad was a strong man. I would never have wanted to tangle with him. One very sad day for me happened near the end of his life. He was in the hospital dying of asbestosis. It might have been about two weeks before his death. He asked to be adjusted in his hospital bed. As I did, I pulled back the covers to hoist him up and I saw that he was in a diaper. I couldn't contain myself. I lost it. My strong, iron-willed Dad, the pillar of my life, the best of all teachers, so dependent on everybody else. He would have been mortified. Outside the hospital room, I cried and prayed to accept God's will. But he surrendered himself into my hands, those of my Mother, my brothers and hospital staff.

Naked we come forth from our mother's womb and naked we return to the earth from whence we come.

Dad, Happy Fathers' Day.

You would be proud of me. Some of your plumber's skills have rubbed off on me. I am no stanger to a pipe wrench. I can take a part a sink trap in no time flat.

Pax et Bonum