1. If you fall, you fall. (Get back up!)

I’m pretty sure my dad taught me this mantra decades ago, while ice skating at Brecon Park in Saline, Michigan.  My memory of how the ice skating rink was created is foggy, but I recently heard that several of the dads on our street flooded the nearby park so that the rink could exist. That does not surprise me one bit, recalling the type of dads on our street, the teamwork and camaraderie that existed and their desire to provide the best childhood possible for their kids.   Like any new skater, it took me hours of practice to build confidence. I’m sure I was frustrated, with a sore rear end, when my dad declared that phrase to me, “If you fall, you fall. You get back up.” And I did. 

Later in life, I would fall again, and again, and again. Sometimes it might have been my slip-up. Other times, I was dropped, pushed down and even what felt like being body slammed.  But I heard those words: If you fall, you fall. Get back up. What other choice do we have? We can sit there for a couple of minutes feeling frustrated and sorry for ourselves. But then we see life passing us by. We see others who have gotten back up, stronger than they were before. We see others who are still a little wobbly but they get back up and keep trying. We see others, holding out their hands to us, encouraging us to keep going. We see our kids, friends and families that need us to get up, keep going, and be ready to help others when they need it the most. I’ve fallen and I’ve gotten back up. There’s little purpose in examining, dwelling on, or over-thinking, the “why.” Get back up. 

2. God helps them to help themselves. 

I remember my dad saying this phrase around a mealtime at the house I grew up in. Perhaps I was in an ornery mood as a child, asking one of my parents to fill my plate when my dad knew I was perfectly capable of that myself. (I recently realized this phrase is not bible-based, but loosely based on a phrase originating in 1698 in Algernon Sydney’s Discourses Concerning Government.)  I’ve always remembered it, though, as meaning that God gives us strength and gifts that allow us to move forward. Follow God’s lead, but be proactive and not wait on others to provide for us. He made us capable; we have to take the initiative and be determined to make it happen. I think this has created an independent spirit in me that has helped me when I have fallen. Yes, I have leaned on so many friends and family for support but I’ve also relied on God and the spirit He gave me to help myself. 

3. Fire! Fire! Versus Keep on Whistlin’ 

Shortly after my dad died, we met with the pastor of my parents’ church to plan the memorial service. She asked us to share a couple stories about my dad, and I offered one that I’ve thought about many times over the years. My dad and I (maybe in my tween years) were in the kitchen cooking, and he was whistling a tune, probably nothing I was a fan of. He had some unique music interests! I recall cleaning up, taking a paper towel, dampening it and starting to wipe off the stovetop. I swiped the towel too close to a burner that hadn’t yet fully cooled down. The edge of the paper towel caught fire and I gasped and immediately got my dad’s attention, who had his back to me initially.  He turned toward me and the paper towel that was now flickering a bright orange color. He reached over, picked up the paper towel, directed it toward the nearby sink, used his other hand to turn on the sink and douse the towel with running water, resulting in an immediate sizzle. My shoulders finally relaxed and I’m sure I audibly sighed. Here’s the impactful part: he never stopped whistling his tune! He didn’t “freak out” like me, he didn’t yell at me for making a mistake, he just showed me the way to handle it, calmly. Intentionally, yet gracefully, modeling the right way.   I can’t say I’ve modeled this consistently with my own kids; I’m still prone to the “Fire! Fire!” reaction vs. calm and cool, but there’s still time to strive for doing better. 

4. Varied musical taste results in indigestion, good conversation and knowing more Jeopardy answers

My dad enjoyed listening to music, but I can’t recall him ever playing an instrument. He seemed to listen while doing Saturday chores, cooking, and driving. He would get on these “kicks,” where he was really into a certain genre, and the rest of the family had to go along with it. I reminded my mom recently of the George Winston “kick,” which resulted in some indigestion. Allow me to explain. George Winston is a very talented pianist, and we got to hear many of his songs over the course of a particular winter. It was a Saturday morning, and we were all seated around our kitchen island, eating breakfast while George played through our cassette player (most likely) in the background. I can’t recall what meal we were eating, but we found ourselves chewing to the rhythm of the music. As the song played on, the beat got faster and faster. I found myself trying to keep up, fork down to food bite, up to mouth, quickly back down, into mouth, chew-chew-chew, no time for that, swallow and fork back down (repeat). It was as if our breakfast was now moving in fast-forward as we all tried to keep up. At one point, finally, one of us realized what was happening, and we all started laughing. Indigestion or not, I think of that meal as a funny and fond memory. 

I can remember clearly my dad belting out the melodic words, “I’m Hen-ery the Eighth I am; Hen-ery the Eighth I am, I am; I got married to the widow next door. She’s been married seven times before! And ev-ry one was a Hen-ery; wouldn’t have a Willie or a Sam! I’m the Eighth ole’ man, I’m Hen-ery, Hen-ery the Eighth I am, I am!” I never thought that song would be of use to me, but it was in a Jeopardy question one time and my husband was shocked that I knew the answer! It’s a silly but catchy song and I remember singing it to my kids, too, though probably not with as much gusto. 

Before my husband Kevin and I were married, I recall riding in the back seat of his Grandpa Jack’s car, with Kevin and Jack in front. I remember the exact road we were on (the road leading out of where his family cottage was), and I could faintly hear the song on the radio. I said to Kevin, “Ooh, could you please turn it up a little bit?” And then I started singing along. “Ooh-ay-a-moo-ee-ay, are-ih ko-oh-oh…”  both Kevin and Jack questioned how in the world did I know this song? I smiled and said it was one my dad used to sing occasionally and I picked it up. I knew it was Japanese but had no idea what it meant. Until TONIGHT as I write this, just a week after my dad’s passing! This is unbelievable. I found it on You Tube, and here are the lyrics in English: 

I look up as I walk

So that the tears won’t fall

Remembering those Spring days

But I am all alone tonight

I look up as I walk 

Counting the Stars with Tearful eyes

Remembering those summer days 

But I am all alone tonight

Happiness lies beyond the clouds

Happiness lies up above the sky

I look up as I walk

So that the tears won’t fall

Though the tears well up as I walk

For tonight I am all alone 

…And then the singer starts WHISTLING! My jaw dropped!  What if this is what my dad was whistling during the “paper towel on fire in the kitchen” incident! Ha! I can’t be sure, but it’s possible! (That, or Henry the Eighth, I suppose).

Sadness lies in the shadow of the stars 

Sadness lurks in the shadow of the moon

I look up as I walk

So that the tears won’t fall 

Though the tears well up as I walk

But I am all alone as I walk 

(Song credit: Ue O Muite Arukou sung by Kyu Sakamoto, written by lyricist Rokusuke Ei and composer Hachidai Nakamura. 1961)

Unbelievable…but then again, not.  God has a way of comforting us when we need it the most. Writing this post, discovering these lyrics and hearing the whistling, has caused me to laugh, shake my head, and thank God for bringing this back full-circle. 

5. Not yet 

As I’m struggling to focus on a fifth major lesson my dad taught me, I realize it hasn’t happened yet. My dad was 80 years old when he died just over a week ago. I remember when I thought 40 was old. In fact, I clearly remember when my dad turned 40 because his friends busted into our house (with cooperation from my mom), kidnapped my dad, pulled him out of bed half-asleep with bedhead hair,  made him wear a silly t-shirt and went to breakfast. Not only is 40 not old anymore to me, my 80 year old dad was not on his deathbed.   I don’t think I’ve realized the full impact of my dad yet. As we get older, we usually get wiser. We understand our parents more than we ever have, because now we know.  We know they did the best they could, just as we are (struggling) to do the best we can do.  I struggle to express love to those that are closest to me. It may be odd and/or misunderstood, but it’s who I am and I’m not alone in this weakness. My dad showed his love through his support, his actions, cooking, baking, protecting, serving, his time spent talking/joking and listening to those around him.  

A Half Lesson:  If, after telling a joke, you say, “Get it?” ….then it’s not funny. 

Anyone who knew my dad knew he could tell a joke like no one else. He captivated the audience and held their attention until the punchline. I don’t ever recall him messing up a joke or not remembering it well. He didn’t tell “knock knock” jokes, but if he did he would add history, accents and it would be the best one you’ve ever heard.  

I give this lesson a “half,” because while I think I inherited my father’s sarcasm, wit and sense of humor, I did not inherit his joke telling and the jokes I tell aren’t great. I lean into “dad” jokes and often have to have them written down or read them from my phone. I’ve had to start over or scrap the joke while telling it, and realize I did not master the art of joke telling like my dad. That doesn’t stop me from being the work-appropriate joke teller and bus stop mom who causes tween eyerolls, but I do avoid saying, “Get it?” because of fatherly wise advice. 

I will continue to live my life with sweet thoughts and happy memories of my dad and discover more lessons learned from him that will continue to impact me in a positive way. 

My sincere wish for my dad, at home in Heaven, is that he now feels more loved than he ever could have felt on Earth and more than he ever imagined was possible. Because that’s who God is.