My dad has always been a teacher. After his PhD thesis was written, he taught courtroom judges about non-verbal communication. His early working years were spent as a university professor. Later, he offered seminars and classes in forgiveness and relationship-building. Over the years, he taught thousands of people in his church callings. Most importantly, he worked to teach his five children many important life lessons. This was no small feat for someone who was without a father during most of his formative years.
This post explains how he taught me to read, keep the commandments, work hard and be prepared. Dad taught me lots of other things as well.
"Quality" is the lesson stands out in my mind. It was taught bit by bit over many years. As I was growing up, my dad frequently talked about quality. He encouraged us to choose high-quality friends and to always do quality work. He made a point of getting to know my friends and he let me know he was proud of the great people I spent time with. Dad didn't judge my friends based on their religion or family circumstances. Instead he appreciated their individual strengths. One of my good friends was incredibly intelligent, mature and a very hard worker. Her family struggled financially and Dad helped her find work during high school and college.
As we got older, Dad reminded us of the importance of finding a quality spouse. He often reminded me that I should get to know the family of those I dated, because "you don't just marry a person. You marry a family." Dad told me that he trusted me to choose a great spouse because I had always chosen outstanding friends. Fortunately, he approved of John as soon as he met him. John was relieved to "pass" the not-so-subtle "interview" with my Dad.
Dad taught us to do quality work in every situation. I remember him teaching my brother Scott how to mow and edge the lawn. Scott learned to do a better job than the gardeners and the neighbors hired him to take care of their yards. My siblings and I were given the chance to work at Dad's business. One of the first jobs was stuffing envelopes. He had a particular way he wanted us to fold the mailers. He explained the reason behind the folding and the importance of doing it correctly. Then he made sure we knew how to do it right. I think of my dad any time I stuff an envelope.
Of course, Dad always wanted me to do a quality job on my schoolwork. I remember Dad reading over my assignments to discuss the ideas I was presenting. Dad knew he wasn't the best at proof-reading and he left that to Mom, but he was all about the big picture! He encouraged me and challenged me to always do my very best, particularly in my writing.
Dad even wanted me to be a quality driver. He and Mom carefully prepared me to get my driver's license when I turned 16. I hated driving the bright yellow station wagon to school, but then my Dad came up with something I thought was even worse. He told me a could drive the nicer, smaller car, but it had a manual transmission. He explained the importance of learning to drive a stick-shift, especially if an emergency were to arise. He took me out to practice, but I was grouchy and humiliated when some boys from my high school showed up in the parking lot where we were practicing. I refused to practice any more with Dad, so he told me I could learn on my own. I was only allowed to drive the stick-shift from then on. We lived in a very hilly area and I stalled the car and rolled backwards down many hills before I finally mastered the art of a using that clutch. At the time, I thought my father was mean for "forcing" me to drive the (very nice, new) car with a manual transmission. Twenty five years later, I finally realized the gift of quality my Dad had given me. My oldest son was a car enthusiast, and he wanted to learn to drive a stick-shift so that he would be ready to drive expensive sports cars. We borrowed my brother-in-law's Honda and headed to a church parking lot. As we drove around, Ryan began to get frustrated and clearly it was my fault. Finally I asked him to stop the car. I grabbed my cell phone and called my Dad. It was a short conversation.
"Dad, I just wanted to apologize for the way I acted when you tried to teach me to drive a stick-shift." Dad started laughing. It was a long time to wait for an apology, but he didn't seem to mind. And Ryan eventually learned how the clutch worked. His dreams later came true on several occasions when he got to drive Porsches.
I many not have always appreciated my Dad's focus on quality when I was growing up, but I surely do now. I love you Dad!
Happy Birthday! Have a QUALITY Birthday!!
 |
| Our quality family circa 1982, around the time I learned to drive a stick-shift |
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
