My father is my hero. He’s someone I admire for his positive qualities and achievements — and for making my life possible.
His long career in real estate law included co-developing the city’s 18-hole golf course and surrounding neighborhoods. After raising us in a big beautiful house among pine trees, he retired back here at the golf course, overlooking the sprawling sun-bathed fairways, sand traps, and miniature lakes.
Together with his business partners, friends, and kin, my dad made so much happen — from large swaths of land traded and built, to the precious tapestry of our Huber family memories.
I step outside; I see the endless green, and I breathe in potential.
My dad was diagnosed several years ago with Alzheimer’s. It runs in our family and afflicts some 50 million worldwide. He and my mama have been fighting the disease to keep his brain healthy and body strong.
Meanwhile, they coordinate the battle with what they’ve always loved to do — travel, collect memories, and be there for their loved ones. They went from the United States to Israel to pursue a cutting-edge treatment, and they brought back a double photo album of their adventure.
I couldn’t wait any longer to write about my dad — because I wanted to thank him, and because I want to make sure I’m fully utilizing the lessons and blessings that have been his gift to those who’s known him. Here are 7 ways my dad inspires me.
1. My dad sacrificed to be a good parent.
Henry Ward Beecher said, “We never know the love of a parent till we become parents ourselves.” I can’t appreciate my dad’s sacrifices on the same level as a fellow parent would, but I can try.
In parenthood, my dad has donated vast amounts of time, energy, and money to his kids. Parenthood also involves sacrifices of ego — having your kids for whom you work so hard see you at your best and at your worst, tell you they hate you when they’re two, and want nothing to do with you when they become teenagers.
There were times I overlooked the infinity my dad did for me and felt entitled. He and my mom must have known the storms of child rearing and adolescent wrangling would pass, but it doesn’t take away from what I imagine are the joyful ups and painful downs of being a loyal parent.
My dad sacrificed especially when he became a single parent. After a long ovarian cancer battle, our mom Amy passed away. This was a sad and lonely time in his life. It only makes me all the happier that within a few years, he met the woman who became his wife and my fairy stepmama, Julia.
My dad is a smart man. He knew what he was signing up for as a dad. I hope he has heartily enjoyed the magic show of watching kids grow. I hope he has felt proud to lift us up into happy adults who pursue what we love and who try to do the right thing, just like him. Although there has been sacrifice, much of it has been a pure gift, given with joy.
Sensing — but not truly tasting — the sacrifices my dad has made to help his kids grow, I am willing to sacrifice a little for my dad — and for the good of others in our world.
2. My dad supported my writing. Now, I want to write words that make him proud and that help others.
I said I wanted to be a writer when I grew up. At 27, I’m finally earning my first income from writing. As often as I can, I try to send encouraging words to my endlessly growing list of favorite authors.
My dad and mom taught me that — both the reading and writing part, and to be encouraging of others’ creativity.
I wrote some of my first storybooks at my dad’s law office after school. He gave me a legal pad and some highlighter markers, and I got right to work!
Soon, I had stapled together my first mini graphic novels. First, there was “Dino in Space,” a comic inspired by Bulbasaur from Pokémon. And I’ll never forget my dinosaur series about “Four Feet the Brachiosaurus,” a flagrant remix of The Land Before Time.
In high school, I printed my school essays for Dad to proofread. I eagerly awaited his blue-ink feedback in neat, slanted handwriting. Writing being my language, seeing my dad’s encouraging comments and helpful corrections on paper was just as comforting and memorable as seeing his face or hearing his voice.
My dad was a writer too. I fondly remember him talking “legal-ese” into a dictation machine, piecing together real estate contracts for his clients. He also recorded our family history and was working on a book. Meanwhile, my mom loved to doodle and made a colorfully illustrated story for our family bookshelf called “Count the Grumps Away.”
My parents modeled creativity in the house, and my dad financed my college education when I left. My dad is also a big believer in the Golden Rule. This all motivates me to tackle important issues in my writing. Above all, I want my writing to encourage kindness and to ultimately make a difference.
3. My dad taught me the importance of being understood.
Everyone has a need to be embraced and accepted. Family members struggle to understand one another at times. I learned the best way I could respond to feeling misunderstood was not to retreat within myself, but to put myself in other people’s shoes.
Growing up, I sometimes felt judged for being solitary. I liked writing in my diary more than socializing. When my anxiety got worse in middle school, this turned into endless hours of web browsing, journaling, and online gaming.
Being alone and always immersed in fantasy were tendencies that concerned my parents. Despite this, they supported my interests as much as they could. They gave me reasons to venture out of my shell.
My dad accepted when my mom let me go vegetarian and I started having different dinners.
He tried new things and went unknown places for me. When I was in high school, he signed us up for a yoga class at a college that I desperately wanted to take. Yoga was my thing, but it was a way we could work out together.
He took me for a road trip to Las Vegas to attend a weekend workshop by one of my favorite writers.
Not to mention the countless baseball games, swim meets, tennis tournaments, and other childhood pursuits that my parents backed.
Instead of lamenting the ways I thought my parents didn’t understand me, what if I had counted all the ways my parents did understand me?
Furthermore, what if I had sought harder to understand them? Just like me, my other family members surely felt misunderstood and underappreciated at times. I could have paid closer attention to the things they were trying to communicate. I could have journaled about what it must be like to be a parent, made lists of everything I appreciated about my dad, mom, and sisters. I could have put more conscious thought into reciprocating the myriad gestures of care I’d received since infancy — and found more positivity even when our family relationships felt strained.
What I realize now is that parent-child relationships are almost always complicated. When we struggle to comprehend each other, it doesn’t mean there is something wrong with our bond. It means we are different, unique individuals who have a ton to learn together.
I’m glad that my complicated relationship could be with someone as intelligent, open-minded and dedicated as my father.
Nowadays, I regularly take moments to project myself into my father’s shoes. Trying to imagine what another person’s experience may be like isn’t the same as actually being them. However, it still brings me closer to him, and increases the intensity of my caring. This motivates me to keep deepening my connections with my dad, and with other Huber and human family members.
4. My dad is an LGBTQ ally. I want to be his ally too.
My dad delivered to me the news about the recent Supreme Court ruling: the 1964 Civil Rights Act protects LGBTQ employees from discrimination based on sex.
Dad was excited to tell me because he knows I suffered growing up because of queer and transgender people not being accepted.
He and my mom supported marriage equality, back when it was still a minority opinion. Our family‘s gay members were always completely accepted.
For years now, my family has been on board with transgender inclusion too. As a kid, I loved being the person my dad could share baseball with. Now, my dad counts me as one of his daughters. I even had the joy of being a bridesmaid at his wedding to my mama.
Because of how content and happy I feel about my gender now, this has been great for our relationship and helped me open up and participate more in the family.
I thought about my dad’s life, and the important aspects of his own identity. How can I be a better ally to him?
- He is a Huber. My dad maintained great family relationships, taking us to see our relatives at jovial reunions every year! As family members age, it takes effort to keep ties strong. I want to keep reaching out and help our family tree stay green and thriving.
- He values education and history. My dad collected books, photo albums, and family history that enriched my cultural appreciation. Now, I take better notes on the facts and tales told to me by family and by each new friend I encounter. I hope to share stories that honor those around me and respect human experiences across the globe and across history.
- He is an Alzheimer’s patient. I want to support my dad during his battle with Alzheimer’s. I want to learn more about how we can help future generations be free from this disease.
- He is a Democrat and a proud voter. My dad values social progress and engagement with current events. We’ve started watching politics together. Despite my previous political avoidance, he’ll be proud to see me finally vote in November 2020.
I’m excited to keep knowing my dad. To help his values and ideals live on. I want him to know that his struggle is my struggle, and that his wins are my wins.
5. My dad has always been responsible, hardworking, and financially abundant.
My dad planned his career well. He graduated with an accounting degree which followed in his father’s footsteps. Realizing he wanted to do something else with his life, he then attended law school. His high-earning career as a real estate attorney meant we all lived with ease and opportunities.
I have started my adult life the opposite of my dad. I only wanted to express myself and help animals; I didn’t think enough about money. Having completed a theatre degree and worked for several animal causes in San Francisco, I’m currently awaiting unemployment while making peanuts as a writer.
While I could never regret putting passion first, my dad’s legacy reminds me the balance between money and meaning. Being a starving artist loses its appeal after a while.
When I consider my dad’s decades of hard work feeding up to 7 mouths at a time (for anyone counting, I’m including the dogs here), and even funding our college educations for us, I know I can stabilize my own financial future. Like my dad, I want to become someone whose well-earned abundance means I have more to give to others.
6. My dad went on real adventures, and he immortalized the memories.
After my dad finished law school, he went against the advice of some of his peers. He took a year off to travel the world.
To this day, memories from traveling abroad are some of his favorite stories to tell. Reading about a place or seeing it online isn’t the same as experiencing it firsthand, he reminds me. Hearing my dad’s stories have cemented my desire to someday live abroad and expand myself through travel.
Because of my dad, I have already seen many beautiful places in the United States. We used to frequent South Carolina to see my grandparents, and the family reunions have spanned Ohio, DC, Hawaii, Connecticut, California, and various other Huber-inhabited or Huber-adored states.
My dad and mom immortalized both faroff treks, and family mischief at home, with their photography, keepsakes, and written records. Grateful for the memories they’ve preserved, I’m beginning to curate my own collections. I hope to live each day as a shared adventure and make it memorable.
7. My dad always had a great sense of Huber.
My dad’s provision of laughter in my life makes me want to spread the good laughs. Our household never went long without jokes about bears whenever someone passed gas. On road trips, Dad used to contribute to my nerdy lists of pun names — like Joe Kerr and Greg Arius!
I have changed because when I was younger, I actually wanted to be serious. Now, I am fully embracing my sense of Huber and turning into a clown with some of my articles. I like transforming my fumbles into humorous stories that can make other people feel comfortable with their flaws.
When my sisters came home and regaled my dad with humorous stories from college, it reminded me to be more like that. I try to cultivate my funny side and let my relationship with my dad be surrounded by lightheartedness.
Plus, it’s not like I can take myself too seriously when my dad reminds me I was born butt-first. As a toddler, I famously pointed at a reflection in a fountain and cried, “Daddy, I can see that man’s erection!” Pronunciation of words beyond two syllables has never been a talent of mine.
Father Greg, for all the ways you have nourished, taught, and inspired, I thank you.
Thanks to Chris Sowers.
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This post was previously published on A Parent Is Born.
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