The Father’s Day Card
Originally published in Horse Directory, June 2013
I’m a selfish oaf. Oh, I often set
things up so that I can appear to be selfless, but hidden underneath there is
always a glaring self-interest. I sometimes hide it better than others, but
it’s there. I do for others, but I am secretly always seeking acknowledgement.
I confess that I have hated the month
of June for some time. For the past ten years we
have raised our niece Sam,
whose mother died suddenly when she was only 12 years old. This tragedy befell
our family soon after we established our little backyard horse farm that we
call Dreamcatcher. Mary and I had been childless
up to that point, and for me, horses were the catalyst for a sometimes clumsy
relationship between a sensitive, tough-yet-fragile beautiful spirit and a
willing but clueless older uncle with an agenda. I gladly took on the
responsibility for Sam, for which I received many kudos for my generosity and
dedication. But on a late June Sunday every year, I looked for an
acknowledgement that never came. I looked for a Father’s Day card. |
| Horse show dads get to celebrate victories. Here, with Sheila Rodgers at Good Shepherd. |
Now fortunately, a few years ago I
adopted a healthier lifestyle, one of the benefits of which has been the gift
of clarity. I have come to see many
things that happen in my daily life as lessons.
In my business as an electrician, I try to be loyal to my clients and I
value loyalty in return. On every circuit breaker panel and fusebox in most
homes, there is a sticker with the name of the last electrician that provided
service. It is always a source of pride when I visit a client and see an old
version of my sticker on their panel, perhaps from 25 years ago or more.
One such client, Mrs. R, had a panel
in a more conspicuous place than most, which normally reside in dusty basements
or garages. Since it was visible in her living
space, I asked permission to put
my sticker over that of a long-forgotten electrician who hadn’t been there in a
long time. Mrs. R. would always say, “Oh, give it to me and I’ll put it on. I
want to clean the cover first”. She never would, and it always irked me on
return visits to see someone else’s name on “my” panel. Yet, I was the one she
always called. No one else had touched anything remotely related to the
electrical system in her home in many years. I had had all the benefits, but
without the acknowledgement I had been seeking.
It bothered me until I was able to see the situation through different
eyes: she had her own reasons for keeping that sticker there, which were
frankly none of my business.
 |
| We also get to be there when the day doesn't go exactly as planned. |
My horsey lifestyle with Sam, although
not without its ups and downs, has carried with it the three elements of
happiness: something to do, something to love, and something to hope for. As a
fledgling parent, a horse-show “dad”, driving instructor, chauffer, confidante,
coach, ATM, sounding board, crying towel, and cheerleader and all the other
things that come under the heading of ‘parent”, I have had a life of purpose which
otherwise would have eluded me, one that has given me those three essential
elements many times over: not a duty; truly a privilege. Available to me only
because she has, like our unendingly patient horses, given me unlimited second
chances when I mess up.
In my narrow-mindedness, I was looking
for a piece of paper with a store- bought sentiment as an acknowledgement. Instead, she chose me to share her whole life
with. I was looking for the label. I had already been given the job. Every horse-show dad already knows what I
have only recently discovered. I’m the
last one to figure out things, sometimes, it seems.
But, I eventually do. Happy Father’s
Day, dads.
 |
| Perhaps a slow week for news back in 2007 prompted fellow equestrian Caryn Eve Murray to write this story for Newsday which included Sam and myself. |
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| One of the perks: an awesome riding buddy! |
