My Dad's Secrets (from
book Spider’s Night on Boom) Gary Anderson www.abciowa.comI've only begun to understand my dad since I became a father myself, and it's amazing to me how I'm constantly being reminded of lessons he taught me 40 years ago—lessons that I never even knew I was learning.
As a kid, my life was like a black-and-white kid's adventure movie, composed of disjointed, but sometimes very exciting scenes. My parents played parts of supporting actors in movie of my life, and although my dad would have rated large letters in opening credits, his character would have been reviewed by a critic “needing to be fleshed out."
Even so, I saw my father as supremely confident. He could fix anything, he always seemed to know exactly where he was going, and knew most efficient route to get there. I never saw a look of worry on his face, never heard him express any doubts, and I certainly never saw him cry. His air of confidence made our home a safe place to my brothers, sister, and I—a place to grow with total loving support. But since mantle of "Daddery" has been passed to me, I've come to realize that my dad must have had moments of genuine doubt and confusion, just as I do. But I never really knew how he felt, deep inside. It never showed, and we never talked about it.
When I became a father, I suddenly began to appreciate my own father's sacrifices as he worked tirelessly to provide for his family. I began to get a glimpse of precarious balancing act he faced every day: wife, children and family vs. dampened fires of his own soul.
It was only after I left home that I began to hear stories about my dad's dreams—sacrificed in name of being a "father." I heard about a young man who gave up a promising baseball career to become my dad. There was no long debate; that's what dads did. They set aside their personal dreams to pursue what was considered a higher calling—that of giving next generation an opportunity to pursue their dreams.
