My Dad turns 70 years old today.

Normally I try to refrain from posting too much personally identifiable information here, but Dad’s been a public figure for most of his life so it’s not hard to figure his birthday and age. Anyways….

Thinking about my Dad turning 70 is difficult for me to accept. Something about that number signifies that you’re truly old. Sure, you turn 40 and joke about being old, but you’re not really that old yet. But 70? Sure, 100 is older, but you can’t find any way to finagle 70 into being celebrating your 29th birthday for the 42nd time. And so with that comes having to admit that Dad’s time with me remains limited.

Am I the best son in the world? I don’t know. Is he the best Dad in the world? I don’t know. I do know that he’s the only Dad I have, and I’m the only son he has. So for better or for worse, we all we’ve got.

But really, it hasn’t been all that bad. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty good. I am who I am today because of him, and so I’m grateful and thankful.

It’s always a hard thing that catches you by surprise — that first day something flies out of your mouth and then you realize, “Shit! I sound just like my father!” You hate it, you hate to admit it. But then you find those moments happening more often. When you start to look at them collectively, you realize it’s really a good thing — at least, if your father raised you right and well. I figure my Dad did just that.

He installed a strong work-ethic in me. I remember there was a time while growing up that he’d always come home and say to me “Son, what did you do today that was productive?”  Now, still to this day I relish the notion of having a day without any productivity because sometimes being one with the couch and idiot box is a nice thought. But I’ve come to find that it’s only that — a nice thought. If I wasn’t truly productive today, I feel like I wasted my day. I no longer appreciate days full of sloth, lethargy, and slack. If I didn’t get something done, I’m pissed! In fact, I find that accomplishing milestones every day towards greater goals brings me a great deal of joy.

All from Dad’s nagging in my youthful years. 🙂

One odd thing is how Dad influenced my parenting style. Because of Dad’s job, he wasn’t around all that much. I used to hate him for that, because all the gifts and money and whatever in the world still deprived me of the thing I wanted most: him. I have one memory of a time in grade school. Parents were to come to have lunch with their children. Older Sister’s day was prior to mine, and I recall when they came for her day, before they left they came over to my class’s table to say hello to me. All my friends were shouting out “Hey, Mr. Daub!” and gosh if I didn’t feel like the coolest kid with the coolest Dad. I couldn’t wait for them to come eat with me on my day. Then on my day, I reserved a seat on either side of me, the placemats I had spent hours making were ready…. and, my parents never came. I was crushed. And obviously it made quite and impression on me, because I can still feel that crushing emotion today. That, along with other things about my growing-up years well… on the one hand, that my folks weren’t around afforded me a lot of freedom which was cool. But on the other, I longed for doing things with them and the lack of them hurt. So I resolved when I was a parent, I’d be around.

I’d say that between my working from home, Wife and I homeschooling the Kiddos… that yeah, my kids have probably already been around their parents more in their short lives than most people are around their folks in a lifetime. 🙂  If you saw our family, you’d see how tight we are. I’m happy of what I’ve been able to cultivate here.

All because of my Dad.

Now granted, that seems like a bad thing… that Dad did bad. Well, yeah… it wasn’t what I wanted, but it worked out alright because it helped me become a better person. And when I look at it, I consider what my Dad did. He worked hard because of his Dad, his work ethic… but also because his Dad didn’t provide him with much, so my Dad strove to be better than his own father. That’s just how it is: we always want to be better than our folks. Of course, I’m sure in some way I’m screwing up with my kids and there’ll be something they think I sucked at and will resolve to improve upon. So the cycle goes.

One more thing. My Dad’s been a politician for most of his life. For the most part, I hate politicians, because the field tends to attract a lot of scumbags and assholes. But I’ve always felt my Dad was different, and not just because I’m biased as his son. I’ve tried to look objectively at my Dad and what he’s done. He went from being a Federal politician to being a local one. Folks, that’s not how most politicians work: they all want to climb the ladder of power (and corruption). I believe my Dad understands the notion of being a public servant and working to truly serve the people, even if they didn’t agree with him. It’s funny… throughout my life I’d be out with my Dad and he’d be politicking and I’d be standing off to the side waiting for him. Lots of people would come up and talk to me. One thing I often heard from folks? That they didn’t like or agree with my Dad — but they respected him. Why? Because he stood up for his principles. He wasn’t some typical wishy-washy, spineless, substance-lacking, two-faced stereotypical politician that pandered to everyone and served no one but themselves. He had his convictions, they were always well thought out, well-reasoned, well-researched, principled, sound. Even if you didn’t agree with him, you couldn’t help but respect him  (and remember, respect is something earned… he was that compelling). To that, it’s an ideal I only hope I can live up to. I strive to be a man of integrity, of conviction like my Father’s. You can hate me if you wish, but that’s good… because it means I stood up for something. Winston Churchill may have said that, but my Dad taught me that.

All in all, Dad… it’s been good. I know it’s taken years — probably more years than you planned on — for some lessons to sink through my thick skull, but I hope they finally have. I hope I’ve done you proud. I know I’m proud to call you Dad. I love you.