One thing to know about me, would be my father. He’s always been sort of heroic in my mind.
This is the same father who raised me to believe that only he knew about the two misprints in the 10 Commandments. The one of them should have read “Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Neighbors Wife- In Vain”
The other was originally written “Honor thy father and mother- If they deserve it”
The first one was a silly setup, but the second one very clearly illustrates something important I was raised to believe. Respect should not be freely given based on number of years on the planet, but are earned. Even from your children.
One of the things we used to do every night during the summer was to play catch (like with a baseball and glove). My dad knew that the easiest way to gain acceptance from your peers as a weird kid is to be good at things, particularly to be good at sports; and so we would play catch until it got dark most evenings.
We’d go do special wrestling practices at other teams on the nights we didn’t have them, so that I could learn as much as possible from any coach with a reputation for knowing how to build good wrestlers.
It was from him that I learned the dedication and drive that has allowed me to excel in the areas I have and how to find the opportunities to and capitalize upon them when I find them.
It’s often his voice I hear when I’m discouraged about my ability to learn or get better at something, asking whether I’m considering quitting because I’m tired or quitting because I’m in actual real danger.
Though as I get older, his voice is more often replaced with my own. The voice I use to pass the lessons he taught me to my students.
I sometimes wonder if eventually it will only be my own voice in there keeping me company and I wonder if I will feel alone.
