An Apple, Tree Sort of Thing

I've had a hard time figuring out just how to start this piece. I mean, I know what I want to say, but can't quite find a clever way to get there. I guess that's sort of the central challenge in all good writing.

The beginning, I suppose. Well, not THE beginning, but A beginning -- the beginning of the idea for this piece. My nephew was born a few weeks ago. His name is Logan (I assume after Marvel's Wolverine, but haven't yet been able to confirm that)*, and he is my parents' first grandchild.

This piece isn't about him. The little bugger's gonna get plenty of attention. He doesn't need more from me. Hell, he already has his own website. No point in over-inflating his little ego so soon.

Ok, it's sort of about him. But only because it was inspired by a picture on his website. A picture of Logan and his grandfather.

My dad.

You see (and if you clicked on the link already, your really did see), Logan's not supposed to be here just yet. He was supposed to be weighing my sister down and making her summer horribly uncomfortable until sometime in August. Human biology being the unpredictable creature it is, things didn't work out as planned, and the little guy had to be delivered almost 3 months early. I'm no expert, but I think it's safe to say that medically speaking, this was less than ideal. My sister and her husband do, I suppose, have the rare opportunity to be new parents and still sleep through the night. But that sleep would be a lot sounder if they didn't have to go home every night without their little boy, leaving him in a hospital intensive care unit while his body tries to catch up on those last few months of development.

But this piece isn't about them, either.

It's about that picture of my dad on Logan's website. Nothing on that site hit me quite as hard as that picture. Take a minute and find it so you know what I'm talking about. Go ahead. I'll wait.

Back? Ok. So maybe you see what I see, maybe you don't. I see the human being I aspire to be.

Some explanation is in order. The belief has been expressed in some circles that I bear certain similarities, characteristically speaking, to my father. By which I mean my wife thinks I'm his clone.

This strikes me as scientifically unlikely.

Still, I won't deny that we have some characteristics in common. Neither of us is particularly expressive of our emotions. Or excessively talkative. I might also share a tendency toward understatement. He does not suffer fools gladly. His sense of humor is dry, and he has been known, on occasion, to be a bit of a smart-ass. Some have made similar accusations against me. I won't say they are entirely unfounded.

That persona is only part of my dad's character, though. In that picture with his grandchild, I see much of the rest. He may not express his emotions much, but his feelings have a depth. Never in my life have I doubted how much he loved me, or that he was proud of me. I'm sure the same is true for my brother and sister. Sure, he got mad at me when I did some dumbass thing (which happened every now and then when I was growing up), but I usually knew (even if I refused to admit it at the time) that he had cause to be angry. It's that not suffering fools thing, especially when the fool in question is a son who knows better. He expected me to live up to my potential, and trying to meet that expectation has made me a better person.

That sounds cliche, I know. And it is, especially on Father's Day. It is also wholly inadequate. There's so much more that I can't quite find a way to capture -- frustrating for a guy who makes his living crafting words. Let me try a bit more.

My dad is loyal. He will be there for anybody who needs his help. Cliche, again, but also true.

He has a quiet self-confidence. Not arrogance, just a solid belief in himself. I think that sense of self is part of what makes it possible for him to talk to just about anybody, to accept people for who they are, and to make them feel comfortable.

My dad has great common sense -- and not in that annoying knee-jerk way some people use common sense as a substitute for actual thinking. And he has a powerful sense of right and wrong, of justice. He probably doesn't know it, but he's made me a better lawyer. In the practice of law, right, wrong and justice can get buried under statutory language, decades of precedent and the minutiae of legal analysis. Lawyers have been known to concoct arguments that might just be a bit too clever. Sometimes, when those legalities start to run away with a case, or I find myself being perhaps a tad too creative with an argument, I ask myself, "Would Dad buy this?" If, in the imagined conversation I have with him, my dad concludes it's bullshit, I figure it probably is.

Mostly, my dad is a fundamentally decent person with a full, loving heart. When I saw that picture of him reaching his hand out to his tiny grandson, my heart caught. I could feel what he was feeling (or at least what I think he was feeling). How much he worried about my sister and her husband, how he would take on their fear and pain if there was any way he could, the love and adoration inspired by little Logan, how he would fix it all if he could, and his frustration that he can't. I don't believe in God or angels, but guardian angels don't get much better than my dad.

Now and again, I find out that people see some of those same characteristics in me. A friend of Amy's once told her about how strongly loyal she thought I am. A kid I represent told me she was glad to hear my voice when I called. People trust my judgment for no more reason than they seem to think I'm fair and that I know what I'm talking about (even if I'm not always so sure).

When that happens, I think maybe these people are seeing in me a little of what I see in my dad.

I hope so.

So happy Father's Day, Dad.

And thanks.

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*It may also have been after the airport, I suppose. His dad has done a lot of flying in his lifetime, and maybe the Boston airport holds a special place in his heart. Again, this is unconfirmed.