The Man in the Mirror, Thank you Dad

Growing up I remember my Dad as probably one of the quietest people I have ever met in my life. He reminds me of the old bull that stands in the pasture grazing, not really doing too much however everything seems to get done. It fascinated me. It fascinates me more as a 35 year old man who recognizes and understand the struggles life can put one thru. Addiction, chronic pain, failed job experiences, failed relationships, etc. What really intrigues me is my Dad grew up in a house without a Dad. Probably a 800 sq foot house with 5 brothers and one sister, and a mom who worked as an inspector at an automotive plant living primarily off welfare.

The childhood trauma he must have endured, the lack of resources readily available, the non-male presence in the household are all key indicators what one would think would lead to an “unsuccesful life.” On the contrary, my Dad would be considered the most succesful of the bunch. His father died in an automobile accident when he was five years old. He has only talked about it once with me. I remember we were sitting on the chair in the living room and and he leaned up, I can’t remember what I had asked him, maybe I was 10 or 11 at the time and he said his dad was hit by an eighteen wheeler in the North Georgia Mountains where they grew up. He also mentioned that his dad was under the influence at the time and he remembers the cop coming to the door to tell his mom what happened. It was the only time I ever heard my dad talk about his dad. He kept a photo of his dad on a table upstairs at the top of the stairs. He was a handsome, well dressed man who owned a gas station. I say all that to say this. My dad has given me two things in my life that I visibily can tell are very important to him. One a putter that was given to him by his father I believe, I could be wrong on that. It might just be his first putter an old ping answer. For those of you who play golf you know what sound that makes hitting off the face and the second a poem givin to him by his father called the man in the mirror.

It talks about nobody where you go in life, what you do, what you accomplish, what you might fail at, or what you might succeed at the only thing that matters is if the man in mirror is your friend. I think this is importantly true. It’s so easy to get caught up in, does this person like me, am I supposed to be where I need to be in life, and if not why am I falling behind. And the pats on the back don’t matter if you come home and the man in mirror is not your friend. I really wanted to thank my Dad for giving me that poem. I know the frame on it broke a few years ago and I still keep it and in a folder and read it from time to time even though the ink is fading. He gave it to me when I went off to college at 18. It was a great gift and I sit here typing this my eyes watering, I am just so proud to call my dad…my dad.

BL