On Fathers and Father Figures

I never met my grandfathers. They both passed away before I was born. Although I never really felt it as a kid, as a man reflecting on my childhood, I feel like I missed out on something important growing up. Thankfully, I had my dad and many other father figures in my life, including my friends' fathers, who all helped guide me to be a better man and a better person. 

Karl Robertson was my friend Dave’s dad. He was also my senior league baseball coach. We won 2 championships with the CT Hispanic Yellow Pages (CHYPs!) in Hartford. His wife babysat me as a toddler. I went on their family vacations, and Dave came on ours. Mr. Robertson’s Swisher Sweet was the first cigar I ever tried (without his permission of course) and immediately spit out. His porn stash was the first porn I ever saw (without his permission of course). So yeah…he played an important role in my life. 

Mr. Robertson was the best type of coach. He was demanding but fair. He was knowledgeable without being showy. He had a firm moral conscious (yes, moral men can enjoy the beauty of the human form that some might call pornography) but he was never the type to preach, even though he was also a deacon at his church. Instead, he used humor and good-natured ribbing. He was hilarious. He would cut you down sarcastically just to bring you up. He was the type to drop wisdom on you in ways you wouldn't even realize until much later. 

I slept over at the Robertson’s house many times, and vice versa. One night, Dave and I were watching tv with his parents in their living room. I can see the 80s carpet with the red and black swirly design, I can smell the scent of Swisher Sweets permeating the air and the couch cushions. At one point, Mr. Robertson made a comment about something we saw on tv. He explained something, or added context, or just gave an interesting, relevant fact. The details aren't important. What he said afterwards is. His wife asked how he knew that. He shrugged his shoulders and replied, "You go through life, and you learn some things." At the time, I didn't think much of it. I thought it was a non-sequitur, a funny response that technically answered the question, without giving any satisfaction. A philosopher’s response. His wife sighed and rolled her eyes, exasperated by his typical reply that ignored the specifics of her question.  

But it stuck with me for some reason. The response did something more important than simply explain how he knew a seemingly random piece of information. It was more than a tongue in cheek, sarcastic response that husbands have been giving wives since the very conception of husband and wife. 

It was a mission statement. It was a blueprint for growth. Maybe he didn't even intend it, but when I think about it now and when I thought about it for years after, that's how I viewed it. You go through life, and you learn some things. Because otherwise, you go through life and you don't learn shit. You believe whatever feels right. You don't question anything. You don't grow. You don't evolve. 

I don't know if he would have even remembered it, or if anyone else does. But it entered my brain and ricocheted around and hasn’t stopped since. I’m not saying that this one moment, this one statement, is the reason I am now a teacher. My parents both being teachers was likely more influential in that regard. But I don’t think it's a coincidence either. I think that every moment of my life pushed me in certain directions. My parents pushed me in a certain direction. All my father and mother figures pushed me in a certain direction. My teachers, my friends, my coworkers. My experiences. They all contributed to who I am and where I am now. They all taught me something.

You go through life, and you learn some things.

I hadn't thought about that phrase in a while. But when Dave told me his dad died it was the first thing that came to mind. Mr. Robertson went through life, and learned some things, and then he taught his children and me some things. And I am forever grateful. 

Joe Coute was another one of my male role models growing up, father to my friend Jeremy. He always loved sports, and even though he was legally blind, he would go to watch his son’s baseball games, and later, his grandchildren’s events. They lived close to Goodwin Park in Hartford. Jeremy and I would play basketball there often, then go back to his place for video games, after getting a Slurpee and a chili cheese dog at 7/11. (Coincidentally, I no longer eat red meat. Go figure.) One day, Mr. Coute went with us to the park and started dribbling around. He wanted to join in the game. I was confused and a little concerned. He was legally blind, after all. The first time someone passed him the ball, he caught it and spotted up behind the 3 point line. He lifted the ball above his head in the best Larry Bird impression, released the ball in a high arc, and hit nothing but net. That’s how I remember it anyways. Point is, he banged that 3. And then he banged half a dozen more. He was on fire. I was flabbergasted. Turns out, legally blind isn’t the same as completely blind. Turns out, you shouldn’t underestimate people based on a disability.

You go through life, and you learn some things.

See, Mr. Coute never let his disability become him, or become an excuse. Unfortunately, it got worse over time, but that didn’t diminish his passion for sports, or his family. And it certainly didn’t diminish his desire to give back and make the world a better place. He was an organ donor (as everyone should be!) and when he died, Jeremy and his family got a surprising call. Despite the fact that his eyes didn’t work properly in life, the hospital wanted to use his corneas of all things for another patient. He was giving someone the gift of sight, despite the fact that he lost his own. The beauty in irony is almost overwhelming at times. 

These were just two of my male role models growing up. Although I had two grandfather sized holes in my life, my life was full of loving adults, and caring men, including my uncles and of course, my father. Now I have a father-in-law as well, so I'm not lacking for father figures. One thing I learned from all these men was the importance of giving back. One uncle gave back by serving his country in the military. One uncle gave back by serving in the local and state government. My father gave back by coaching baseball and opening up his house (and cottage) to his sons’ friends. He also dedicated his life to his kids and his wife. And his pets. And golf, but hey, you gotta have a hobby.

I’ve written plenty about my parents, but I can never capture the entirety of what they’ve taught me and provided for me. I am beyond grateful to still have my dad. With the recent passing of my mom, I appreciate his presence even more. As her condition got progressively worse, and he became more and more dedicated to her well-being, my respect and admiration for him grew beyond what I could have ever imagined. Witnessing his actions, his commitment, taught me more about love and life than anything ever has. You go through life…all its struggles, all the joy and pain and misery and happiness and awkwardness and grossness and horror and beauty…and you learn some things.

Now I just have to keep applying those lessons. I'm trying. 

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.