June 21 is always a special day for me because it is my mom’s birthday. She was born on the first day of summer, the solstice, and I’ve always felt there was something fitting about her being born on the longest and brightest day of the year. She is a light that burns brighter and with more intensity and radiance than most anyone I have ever known, and her having the longest day to celebrate her birth is as it should be.
But this year for the first time that I can remember, June 21 is also Father’s Day, which means for me this is a daily double, a day on which to celebrate both of the people who raised me with love and compassion, a blend of toughness and tenderness, and always the support that has allowed me to progress through life and which has done as much as anything to shape the person that I am today, and that I may yet become.
Like all great parents, and I believe there is nothing in this world that is more deserving of the moniker of greatness, they started early and never stopped. I have been told the story about how when I was born my dad was on a business trip in Kansas City and was so distraught at not being able to be there for the birth of his first son that he got drunk, which is not a normal state for a man of great discipline and self-control. He may have missed day one, but he didn’t miss too many days after that.
My dad gave up a promising career at a Big 8 accounting firm in LA to start his own practice, and by doing so was able to devote his time to his work and to what really matters in this life, his family. This is a lesson that certainly has not been lost on me. From my earliest memories, my father was there with me in the afternoons after work playing catch and throwing batting practice in the front yard, and when my power stoke developed to the point of needing a larger playing field, taking me to the YMCA in San Pedro on Saturdays and utilizing their field, after which we would always stop at this liquor store by the freeway for a grape or orange soda. He attended countless Little League and youth basketball games, the sight of his green Chevy Malibu parked out beyond the outfield fence always gave me a feeling of comfort, just knowing that he was there and watching without the distraction of being around the other parents, focused on his son, and always made me play that much harder wanting to please him.
While we didn’t always see eye to eye on things, we were able to get past our generational and philosophical differences and appreciate and accept each other, and this is a blessing that continues to this day. If I need advice or encouragement or simply want to talk about UCLA football or the Dodgers chances, he’s my go to guy. There is nobody in this world, not even my wife or my mom, who can understand me as a man the way my dad can.
And there is nobody in this world with whom I am more alike than my mom. My mom, who is celebrating a milestone birthday that ends in a 0 (and I’ll leave it at that) is my kindred spirit. I am an unabashed and unapologetic momma’s boy, have been from the earliest days I suppose and will be until the day I die. My mom gave me her dark hair and complexion (although I get a better tan than she does, no matter what delusions she might be under about the effects of my hairy arms tilting the scales in my favor) and she gave me most of my physical features, save for my teardrop eyes and thick stumps for legs, which come from the paternal DNA.
But most importantly, my mother passed along to me her intelligence and intellectual curiousity, a love for new knowledge, a love for reading and discussion and thorough debate. One of my favorite times with my mom is the half hour or so we spend in the car on our way home from the airport when she comes out to visit, the time being spent discussing whatever issues are current at the time. My mom gives me unconditional love the way only a mom can, but she also is unafraid to challenge me, whether it be on my political views or the length of my hair. She doesn’t usually win out on the political arguments, but she will be happy to know that my hair is now cut short with plans to keep it that way, so you get that one mom. I suppose it is my reciprocating to her for coming around to my side on supporting Obama.
My mom has more than anyone shaped my high opinion of women, she has set the bar at a high level and made it impossible for me to buy into any of the sexist claims that a young man often encounters all around him while growing up. She also served as the role model for what a wife and mom should be, someone who gives all for their family without giving up her individuality, someone who is both supportive and stubbornly independent. My wife has these qualities, and I knew that these would serve us well because I had seen them in action for two decades prior to meeting and falling in love with her.
My parents have instilled in me many things, but none more meaningful than the importance of family, of being accountable for your actions, of always striving to achieve your goals, and the belief that of all the things one does in life, none is more important than being a parent, if that choice is made. There are many ways in which a man can be judged. I never ask someone what they do for a living, I don’t care a lick for how much money they make, what their title at work is, or what kind of car they drive. I learned from two of the best, and I judge a man by three things. One, is he a good person with a sense of decency and respect for people. Two, does he maintain love and admiration for his spouse. Three, is he a loyal and committed father to his children, does he put his family above all else in this world. Regardless of his social status and politics, if a man passes these three tests he’s good in my book.
I owe more to my parents than I can ever repay them, so hopefully a heartfelt thank you for providing for me, for nurturing me, for supporting me, for kicking me in the backside when I needed it, and for continuing to be a most important part of my life will have to suffice. That and living my life and tending to my own family in way that makes them proud of the man they raised, I know that from the perspective of a parent there can be no greater reward than to see your own children internalize and live based on the values that you have taught them. So on the longest day of the year, I will be celebrating the two people that I’ve known and loved longer than any others. I’ve learned a few things in my nearly 39 years in this world, failed to realize many more things I’m quite sure, but I do know that I’ve been blessed with the two greatest parents anyone could ask for. So Happy Birthday Mom, and Happy Father’s Day Dad, I love you both more than any Hallmark card or even column can express, and I know that you realize that. You are truly the best.
Love, Your Son
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