June RJ 09 - USAREC - U.S. Army

A Dad’s Legacy
By Chaplain (Lt. Col.) Doug Peterson
Some time ago I ran across a list of statements that one
would never hear a father utter:
“Well, how’ bout that?... I’m lost! Looks like we’ll have to
stop and ask for directions.”
“You know Pumpkin, now that you’re 13, you’ll be ready for
unchaperoned car dates. Won’t that be fun?”
“Here’s a credit card and the keys to my new car — go crazy.”
“What do you mean you wanna play football? Figure skating
not good enough for you, son?”
“Father’s Day? Aahh — don’t worry about that — it’s no big
deal.”
Actually, many dads may outwardly display minimal sentiment
on the topic of Father’s Day. Men are conditioned to show
little emotion — which could be taken as indifference. After all,
we fathers usually take pride in our diligent efforts day-in and
day-out as providers, not necessarily seeking or expecting
showers of gratitude. It’s all about mission accomplishment.
But that is not to say that we don’t revel in appreciation. We
do.
Much of a man’s sense of significance comes from his work
environment. But it’s the unsolicited words of affirmation from
those closest in life — wife and children — that he ultimately
craves.
For some of us, that may be a lesson we learn too late.
How are we as adults connecting with our fathers? Do we
enjoy the fruit of a rich, mature relationship?
Or, perhaps there’s a rift or an emotional distance that
requires our taking the initiative to overcome.
Courtesy Photo
Father’s Day
Chaplain
RJ | CHAPLAIN
The importance of this for me did not sink in until well into my
adult years. Earlier on, my dad and I were never close. At times, I
despised him but most frequently relegated him to the oblivion
of insignificance.
That changed about the time I was married at the age of 27. In
an attempt to repair our relationship I asked him to serve as my
best man at our wedding. He did.
But the mending was too short-lived. A mere four years later
he made the decision to exit this life by suicide.
Did my nearly lifelong antipathy toward my father have any
relevance to his death? Could a stronger, nurturing bond with
his only son have given him the resolve to press forward
through adversity? I don’t know.
But I do know that had I obediently followed the biblical
admonition to honor my father, our relationship would have
been much more rich and more satisfying. And his legacy is one
that I would have more deeply cherished.
As the years pass, I sense more deeply and painfully the void
of my father’s absence.
I suspect that many of us can appreciate the following
chronological perception of a father’s wisdom.
At 4 years old: My daddy can do anything.
7 years: My dad knows a lot, a whole lot.
8 years: My father doesn’t know quite everything.
12 years: Oh, well, naturally Father doesn’t know that, either.
14 years: Father? Hopelessly old-fashioned.
21 years: Oh, that man is out-of-date. What did you
expect?
25 years: He knows a little bit about it, but not
much.
30 years: Maybe we ought to find out what Dad
thinks.
35 years: A little patience. Let’s get Dad’s assessment
before we do anything.
50 years: I wonder what Dad would have thought
about that. He was pretty smart.
60 years: My Dad knew absolutely everything!
65 years: I’d give anything if Dad were here so I
could talk this over with him. I really miss that man.
You see, it’s not only dads who, sometimes secretly,
long for the connection with their children.It may be
our legacy to connect or reconnect with them while we
still can.
Happy Father’s Day!
RECRUITER JOURNAL | JUNE 2009 | 7