Father's Day 2012

As like you, I gaze at this picture of my father reading one of these postings shortly before his passing, I realized it might be time to take up the still rather painful subject of Father's Day once again. Sitting down to write a bit on the subject is not easy, though there are certainly a number of things running around in the empty space between my ears (an area that scientists have in fact called as close to a perfect vacuum as they have ever seen).  Since it's a subject that I haven't taken up with original material in a couple of years, it's certainly one long overdue for such treatment. 

Dad's are important after all, in spite of the fact that Father's Day is for most of the nation little more than a second tier holiday.  It's certainly one without the stature and hype of Mother's Day (though it's still enough of a holiday to warrant its own mattress sales).  Ties sales leading up to it are not nearly what flower sales are for that of its female gender comparative (probably because ties have seen similar decrease in primacy ... another sad victim of the practice of 'Casual Friday' that has become 'Casual Every Day'). 

It used to be famous however, as the day on which the Bell Telephone company made fortune from having more collect long distance calls made than on any other day, though like Ma Bell that's mostly disappeared since the advent of cell phone packages. (That's right, go ahead and think about it for a minute and the reason will come to you.)  For me, the subject and the holiday take on three separate aspects that I suppose I need to address if this is to be a proper effort.  

The first has to do with the parents that my children have become.  I could not be any prouder of the father that my step-son Joe Highman has become with the three that he calls his own.  The testament to his (though I should perhaps say their) skills are the results that have produced with his wife Laura where Michael, Madeleine, and Andrew are concerned.  It therefore cannot go without saying that the natural pride of a grandparent in three pretty good looking and outstanding young people is doubled and redoubled in the recognition of the parenting skills of one who I once considered a child.   

My son-in-law Jim Demaria has likewise proved himself an able and loving parent.  With my daughter Laura, they have produced a couple of young ladies attractive enough to no doubt give their parents fits in the years ahead when dating begins.  These two grand-offspring are likewise a tribute (and because Jim is a professional photographer and documentary film maker, a well documented tribute) to the parenting skills of two very busy parents.  Their children are two very young people who will go far in life because of the upbringing that they continue to be provided with.

As for my son Sean ... while the only one of my offspring without any of his own, he is usually the beloved favorite of all his nephews and nieces; and seems to find endless amusement in their entertainment.  The talent therefore seems to be present, whether he chooses some day to use it in his own life or not.

The second aspect naturally enough, has to do with a look back on the parent that I have been in my life.  Now I have often believed that there were a number of skills that I possessed, but I can't recall that parenting was ever one of them. (Dancing was another skill in which I was totally lacking, but that's a tale for another day.)  I'm sure that such feelings are natural enough in any of us, and that there is a genetic component involved in feeling that we have somehow never done enough where our offspring are concerned.  In my case however, I found myself wrapped up in a career which now seems all but meaningless instead of in their lives the way I wish I had been.  I was likewise far too often checking up on them from a hotel room hundreds of miles away instead of tucking them in at night.  

I allow myself no excuses for my own lack of diligence in this critical part of my personal responsibilities; but gladly give due credit to the three good women involved with my children's upbringing. (As well as my two wives, I also acknowledge the influence of my own mother on them, especially on Sean and Laura in their early years.)  Again I point to the results of the efforts of these three women (that being three children that I couldn't be more proud of), who took up the slack from my slacking.  While I still don't see any of my progeny as much as I would like to, that I retain a good relationship with all of them remains a source of both relief and pride for me.  

No discussion of fatherhood would of course be complete unless I spoke of my own, one in which I was truly blessed.  I was raised by man who knew a life of responsibility and self-reliance, and did his best to pass it on to me.  In spite of spending most of my younger days working 3rd shift, he was still able to find the time to show me how to throw and catch a baseball or football (as much as my skills would allow anyway), how to cast a fishing line (without throwing the pole into the lake like some sisters I know), how to tune up a car (at least before they put computers on them), and how to build or fix damn near anything that I would ever need in life.  

Not having settled for providing more than the normal parental responsibilities, he went on to mentor and apprentice me in an industry in which he was a world-recognized expert.  Having presented me with the tools to earn my place in life, he went on later to open even more doors for me; becoming a co-worker, manager, and a unreachable goal of accomplishment to set my sights on.  No one was a more demanding task master, a more discriminating critic, and a more fierce advocate.  Though not perhaps a demonstrably affectionate man where I was concerned, there was never any question in my life as to the fierce love that was always there.   

As I write this morning in fact, I find myself all too keenly and painfully acknowledging the conversations that we can no longer have.

So it seems fitting that should once again end an effort on Father's Day with some of the wisdom that I believe he taught me, that I have shared here before, and that hopefully I too have passed on where it can do the most good: 

*  That honesty is the best policy, even if your only reward is that of self-respect.

*  That your word is your bond and everything else is just society's crap.

*  That your reputation is the only thing that you truly possess in life, so make sure you protect it. 

*  That if you work hard it will be rewarded, even if that reward is nothing more that knowing that you did your best.

*  That you will make mistakes in life, but they are rarely permanent; and that it's usually easier to fix them than to admit to them.

         Happy Father's Day!

The Irish Anniversary

Having my daughter and her family come to visit the City of Fountains was indeed a joy, and reminded my of a time only eight short years ago when that family was just beginning.  It was a time when my rather self-willed youngest offspring decided that she needed to get married in Ireland. It didn't seem to matter at the time that she had just been married just a few weeks earlier in New York City.  Of great concern however, was the idea that her father was going to visit Ireland without her.  The next thing that we knew, the game was afoot. 

As if making a wedding come off in a foreign country were not daunting enough of a challenge for any young couple (thank goodness for her wedding planner), this turned out to be the weekend of the big Northeast blackout.  Each of us was stranded in their respective airport, with all of us losing a day of travel when power failed from NY to Cleveland.  I have been told that there is no more pitiful sight than that of a young lady sitting on her luggage in an airline terminal, clutching her wedding dress, and sobbing uncontrollably.  (And I would tend to agree, since it certainly sounded that way as I listened to her on the phone that evening.)

Somehow however, not only did we all make it across the pond; but everyone managed to make it to the ceremony on time as well.  This in spite of the fact that there were a few other responsibilities and ceremonies to be dealt with that weekend.  The ceremony itself was held at Newtowne Castle just southwest of Ballyvaughan in County Clare, with the reception at the Ballinalacken Castle Hotel in Doolin (following the traditional visit by the wedding party to the local pub, of course).  It was an astonishingly beautiful day and ceremony, with fine clear weather not being the only thing about it that was rather extraordinary. (Other extraordinary parts of the story we were only to find out years later, which is a tale for another day.)  

Since today is the anniversary of that day back in 2003, I decided to drag out a few of the pictures from that rather magical event.  Since few of you were able to celebrate this blessed event with the family and friends that made the journey (a circumstance which no doubt saved me more than a bit on the bar tab), I decided to put up a few of these memories (in no particular order) on Just Blowing Smoke to commemorate the 8th Irish anniversary of Jim and Laura Demaria.   

Happy Anniversary Jim and Laura, and as the Irish toast goes:

May the road rise up to meet you
May the wind be always at your back
May the sun shine warm upon your face
And the rain fall soft upon your fields
And until we meet again
May God hold you in the palm of His hand
And may you live in peace and freedom

 

Jim & Laura's Anniversary

 It has been six years now since we made our way back to the fair land of Ireland for a second celebration of the marriage of my daughter Laura to her husband, Jim Demaria. For my recently acquired in-laws, this trip would be the first back to Ireland for Jim's mother since she left to come to America, and would be her husband's trip ever to her homeland.

 
The entire trip was in fact inspired by the fact that I had been invited by a friend and former boss, Michael McGeady, to his family reunion in Letterkenny near Mt Errigal, in the northern end of the island. 

The entire trip was an adventure, as this weekend (for those of you who remember that far back) was the weekend of the great Northeaster blackout. As a consequence, we who were flying out of Cleveland thru Newark, and my daughter and son-in-law, who were leaving out of Kennedy, both found ourselves trapped at our respective departing airports and unable to depart. (And let me tell you, the sound of your daughter sitting in a dark airport, crying on the wedding dress that she is carrying is enough to bring down the strongest man.)

Losing a precious day on a short trip, all eventually made it over the ocean, and while the kids were beginning their preparations, we were celebrating the glories of the McGeady clan in typical Irish fashion (no, not drinking tea ... that's English). Surviving the festivities (and in my case, barely avoiding being raffled off to an unmarried female McGeady), we made our way down the west coast of the island. Briefly stopping in Cong the home of Ashford Castle and the area where John Ford movie "The Quiet Man" starring John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara was filmed, we made it to Lisdoonvarna and Ballilaken Castle barely in time for the rehearsal dinner.

The following day dawned clear and bright clear and the departure to Newtowne Castle for the ceremony was right on time. The ceremony of course was beautiful, Father Joe did an amazing job (more amazing than we realized at the time, but that's a tale for another day), and the incredible shot that you see above was itself worth all of the craziness involved with the trip. 

Irish tradition determines that the journey to the reception must begin with a stop at the pub (big surprise, huh?), which we duly did. (The amusing scramble to produce enough euros to cover the tab was made only more ridiculous by discovering that they took Visa.)

The reception was amazing as well, and since we had booked all of the rooms in the hotel at Ballilaken Castle, they turned the place (and the pub) over to us for the evening. And when the weary bartenders finally decided that they had had enough, they turned the keys to the pub over to me with instructions to keep track of the drinks, lock up when we were finished, and leave the keys at the podium near the front door.

While this is not the anniversary that this wonderful couple celebrates (at least to my knowledge) it is certainly an event that I will remember all of my days. Congratulations kids, you have done well indeed and are truly blessed to have each other. And perhaps one day we will all get to return, this time taking young Maggie with us to introduce her to that magical place of your "other anniversary", the Emerald Isle.

Happy Birthday Laura

On this, the first anniversary of my daughter's 29th birthday, I have decided to share with you the toast that I gave at a recent early celebration of that event that was given as a surprise party for her by her husband. While I don't normally use this blog for personal stuff (yeah, like hell), I feel that the opportunity to speak a little bit about the aging process for all of us. Besides the chance to embarrass this young woman in public is simply too good to pass up.

We friends and family have gathered together here on this solemn occasion to mourn the passing of Laura Demaria's youth. Having now reached her third decade, she must leave behind at last, the final trappings of her childhood.

Watching now as her daughter Maggie grows and blooms into the young woman that we know that she will become; Laura will now have little to look forward to except to suffer the pangs of jealousy for what might have been in her own life. Remembering the days of her own childhood and adolescence, she must now confront the well-deserved guilt of her misspent and wasted youth.

Time will mark her as each year passes, and as she sees the reflection of every gray hair and every wrinkle in her husband Jim's loving eyes. Even his kind attention however, will provide no solace for the failing health and diminished mental capacity which soon will become her constant companion. Plagued by an ever-growing number of aches and pains as she enters this new period of her life, she will have to face life being referred to as "Mrs Demaria" by her students and treated with the respect of a senior citizen, with only her AARP membership to look forward to.

So while she's still able to hear and understand us, we say "Here's to Laura!" as she celebrates the end of an era. Never again will she celebrate the passing of another year. Her lot instead, will be a future filled with anniversaries of a date and of times she will soon only barely remember.

Now I know that publishing this probably means that I won't get invited to the next birthday party, but having a parent who can string a couple or words together coherently is a dangerous thing for a child.

Happy Birthday Kiddo. I couldn't love you more, nor be any more proud of you than I am today.