A Note to Dad - Entry #32

I wrote to my father last week.  He has been a constant cheerleader for my year-long Writing Project.  He has provided me with many artsy notecards, most with pictures of his collage art on the front, to use for my endeavor.  The other day he informed me he had picked up the book, 365 Thank You’s, by John Kralik, which was part of the inspiration for this undertaking, so he could become more attuned to what I was actually doing.  I wanted him to know that I truly appreciated his continual support, especially as this whole enterprise comes to a close. 

I also wrote how his encouragement and advocacy for the Writing Project came as no surprise.  Through all the formative stages of my life—the events and milestones; the good, the bad, and the ugly—he and my mother (who passed away many years ago) have been there for me. It wasn’t so much that Stu could do no wrong.  Their philosophy was more give Stu enough slack to explore, make mistakes, or reach out in different directions.  I have been very fortunate to have parents that provided such support and optimism over the years.  An election during my college years demonstrated this viewpoint.  I was one of two nominees for the Station Manager of the university radio station.  I had been involved in many facets of the station—news department, dj, community programming—for three years.  By all accounts I was the most qualified for the position.  However, the governing board of the station, which selected the new head of the radio station, was overly comprised of the other candidate’s buddies.  He was chosen.  I was devastated and, literally, did not leave my residence hall room for days (years later at a school reunion get-together that other person confided in me that I more qualified then him and should have won).  I remember my father calling me on the hallway pay phone trying to cheer me up.  He stated something about character building and how the experience was just one of life’s lessons.  I would even learn from this defeat. Yeah.  I don’t think I really listened.  I wasn’t much in the mood.   

Looking back, he was taking the negative and trying to put a positive spin on the crushing defeat (does it seem like I am still bitter all these decades later?).  He was supporting me, urging me to carry on with my pursuits and interests just as he has done these past 11 months with the Writing Project.  My number one booster.  Thanks, Dad.