I've been thinking a lot about my dad recently. This morning under my "Gideon" post, Jeremy DelRio commented and it just made me think of him again! My dad was a Gideon when I was younger and I really never knew what that meant. I mean, everyone knows if you've ever stayed in a hotel that the Gideons provide Bibles for hotels/motels. I'm not really sure how my dad was involved in this ministry, the only story I remember was how at a Gideon luncheon he mistakenly used the women's restroom - funny story, especially if you know my dad! That's about the extent of my knowledge of this, though.
Abbreviated version: I loved my dad!
The full story: read on:
My father was born just outside of Chicago, Illinois, in a town named Midlothian. His father was from Chicago I think and his mom was originally from Scotland. She immigrated to the U.S. when she was 16. It wasn't until I was in high school that it occurred to me that my dad's mom probably spoke with a Scottish brogue, like his aunt who I knew. His mom died when my dad was 16 so I never met her. My dad actually could do a pretty good scott accent. His advice: talk with your teeth clenched. It worked for him!
My father's earliest claim to fame was his birthweight, weighing in at 2.5 pounds. Of course, I'm only going based on what I've heard! His father was serving in Germany during World War I at the time. His mother had had several miscarriages previously, so she was well taken care of back at home. My dad was in the hospital for a couple months before coming home.
At the age of 4 or 5, my dad made the front page of the newspaper. He was waiting in line for rationed beef. It's a funny little article and to the day he died he remembered having that picture taken. He was an average size for a boy his age, so his "prematurity" must have been quickly dashed.
Another of his fondest memories from childhood was owning the first television on the block. Unfortunately, TV would become a centerpiece for the rest of his life. It's a stronghold I think everyone in my family has had to overcome, due to the fact that my dad kept it on at all times. My dad recalled his father setting up the TV on their front porch for all the neighbors to watch. If my dad had had the first of anything, I could totally have seen him doing exactly the same thing!
When my dad was 17 his father remarried a woman with four children. While I think my dad enjoyed the camaraderie with his new stepbrothers and stepsister, it was short lived as he was heading off to college. With the extra burden at home, his father was unable to help him with college. His grandmother, a seemingly progressive single woman, Grandma McGowan, helped finance college by offering to match anything he made while away. So, my dad headed off to The King's College in Briarcliff Manor (it's now in the Empire State Building!) with his car that could not go in reverse (more funny stories!) to begin college and his foundling career at McDonald's.
It would appear his years of organ lessons also paid off, as he landed a job playing the organ at college chapel. He also landed a wife, yes, my mom. She was formerly engaged to an acquaintance of his who tragically died in a car accident. After earning his degree in history and spot in Who's Who (not really sure what good that did him!), he headed off for Moody Bible Institute back in Chicago, quite certain that he was called to be a pastor.
I wish I knew more about what God did in his life that year, but we never really talked about that. We talked about EVERYTHING else, but not that. Anyway... after a year at Moody, my mom told him either they get married or "seeya." She was teaching in Stratford, CT living with her parents in Fairfield. He dropped everything and came to CT, got his masters in teaching and started his lifelong career teaching middle school English and History for Norwalk Public Schools, which is considered "inner city" for Connecticut.
I don't know if he gave up the pastoring career for love, but in many ways I think he definitely chose the right path here. My father was born to be a teacher. It was truly his lifeblood. My aunt and uncle would always tell their friends, "Whatever you do, don't bring up education or history with Rudy. You won't be able to shut him up!" It was so true. Those two subjects could keep him going for hours. But there were other subjects...
The World Wrestling Federation (we teased him relentlessly about this), football, Revelations, anything having to do with Biblical history, financial planning, retirement planning, vacation planning, college financial planning, where to buy the cheapest gas, where to buy the cheapest anything!, how to raise a family of five on a teacher's salary in Fairfield, CT, how to lead an overcomitted life and raise a family at the same time (so that's where I get it!), and so on. You name it, he had something to say about it. I know about all these things because my dad stayed up every night until each of his children was home. When I was in college, he would wait up until I got in when I was coming home for a weekend. We would stay up until 3 or 4 just talking, about everything. I cherish those early morning hours I spent with him.
I learned a lot about my dad and he taught me more than I could ever write in a blog. I'm not even sure I could fit it all in a book. There are many things my dad didn't do as a father, but I found something he loved to do and I took advantage of that. He loved to talk, and I learned to listen. Picture this: I arrive home at 2:30 am, after working until 11 pm and driving from MA home after a long week at school. When I get home, I see the familiar glare of the TV through the window of the dark house I lovingly call home. I know when I get up to the door that my dad will be sitting in his favorite chair, wherever it might have been moved while I was away at school these past months. Yup, there he is, arm up over his head in his uniquely strange TV watching position. He's sound asleep until he hears me come in, then wakes up and pretends that he is engrossed in his favorite TV show. He'll tell me what it is as soon as the infomercial is over. I bring to him all my stories and quandaries from the last month away at Gordon and he listens like a good father, one eye on the TV, one eye on me. He listens, he ponders, I think, "He doesn't have a clue what I just told him. I must be boring him to death. Time for both of us to go to bed." Just as I go to get up, he starts pouring wisdom out of nowhere. I just soak it up because I want to know him more and more. College is fun but draining, it's exciting but makes me a tad bit homesick, enlightening but creates questions in me that only can be answered by someone I really trust, who I know is wise. That's my dad.
There's so much more to tell, but fast forward to now. It's been 2 1/2 years since my dad joined his father and Father in heaven. I have a peace about this that is beyond all understanding. When I recall how I sat my dad's feet, pouring out most of my soul and hoping for a wise response, I'm reminded that I can still do that with my heavenly Father. I feel so incredibly blessed to have had the opportunity to get to know my dad so well before he died. I miss him terribly. I ache for my brother and sister, whose children will never have met him. But it's a great privilege to have known my dad, and I'm thankful that God gave me that experience.
So, Gideon, for now, that's just a reminder that I still have a lot to learn about my dad. I'm curious now and so happy that I'll see him again. In my father's death, I was reminded of the sacrifice that God made in sending His son, so that we can have eternal life. In my father's death, that reality had new meaning for me. I can now rejoice in my father's life as a whole person and someday see him whole again. I might ask him why he was a "Gideon" or I might not have to. That remains to be seen!
Abbreviated version: I loved my dad!
The full story: read on:
My father was born just outside of Chicago, Illinois, in a town named Midlothian. His father was from Chicago I think and his mom was originally from Scotland. She immigrated to the U.S. when she was 16. It wasn't until I was in high school that it occurred to me that my dad's mom probably spoke with a Scottish brogue, like his aunt who I knew. His mom died when my dad was 16 so I never met her. My dad actually could do a pretty good scott accent. His advice: talk with your teeth clenched. It worked for him!
My father's earliest claim to fame was his birthweight, weighing in at 2.5 pounds. Of course, I'm only going based on what I've heard! His father was serving in Germany during World War I at the time. His mother had had several miscarriages previously, so she was well taken care of back at home. My dad was in the hospital for a couple months before coming home.
At the age of 4 or 5, my dad made the front page of the newspaper. He was waiting in line for rationed beef. It's a funny little article and to the day he died he remembered having that picture taken. He was an average size for a boy his age, so his "prematurity" must have been quickly dashed.
Another of his fondest memories from childhood was owning the first television on the block. Unfortunately, TV would become a centerpiece for the rest of his life. It's a stronghold I think everyone in my family has had to overcome, due to the fact that my dad kept it on at all times. My dad recalled his father setting up the TV on their front porch for all the neighbors to watch. If my dad had had the first of anything, I could totally have seen him doing exactly the same thing!
When my dad was 17 his father remarried a woman with four children. While I think my dad enjoyed the camaraderie with his new stepbrothers and stepsister, it was short lived as he was heading off to college. With the extra burden at home, his father was unable to help him with college. His grandmother, a seemingly progressive single woman, Grandma McGowan, helped finance college by offering to match anything he made while away. So, my dad headed off to The King's College in Briarcliff Manor (it's now in the Empire State Building!) with his car that could not go in reverse (more funny stories!) to begin college and his foundling career at McDonald's.
It would appear his years of organ lessons also paid off, as he landed a job playing the organ at college chapel. He also landed a wife, yes, my mom. She was formerly engaged to an acquaintance of his who tragically died in a car accident. After earning his degree in history and spot in Who's Who (not really sure what good that did him!), he headed off for Moody Bible Institute back in Chicago, quite certain that he was called to be a pastor.
I wish I knew more about what God did in his life that year, but we never really talked about that. We talked about EVERYTHING else, but not that. Anyway... after a year at Moody, my mom told him either they get married or "seeya." She was teaching in Stratford, CT living with her parents in Fairfield. He dropped everything and came to CT, got his masters in teaching and started his lifelong career teaching middle school English and History for Norwalk Public Schools, which is considered "inner city" for Connecticut.
I don't know if he gave up the pastoring career for love, but in many ways I think he definitely chose the right path here. My father was born to be a teacher. It was truly his lifeblood. My aunt and uncle would always tell their friends, "Whatever you do, don't bring up education or history with Rudy. You won't be able to shut him up!" It was so true. Those two subjects could keep him going for hours. But there were other subjects...
The World Wrestling Federation (we teased him relentlessly about this), football, Revelations, anything having to do with Biblical history, financial planning, retirement planning, vacation planning, college financial planning, where to buy the cheapest gas, where to buy the cheapest anything!, how to raise a family of five on a teacher's salary in Fairfield, CT, how to lead an overcomitted life and raise a family at the same time (so that's where I get it!), and so on. You name it, he had something to say about it. I know about all these things because my dad stayed up every night until each of his children was home. When I was in college, he would wait up until I got in when I was coming home for a weekend. We would stay up until 3 or 4 just talking, about everything. I cherish those early morning hours I spent with him.
I learned a lot about my dad and he taught me more than I could ever write in a blog. I'm not even sure I could fit it all in a book. There are many things my dad didn't do as a father, but I found something he loved to do and I took advantage of that. He loved to talk, and I learned to listen. Picture this: I arrive home at 2:30 am, after working until 11 pm and driving from MA home after a long week at school. When I get home, I see the familiar glare of the TV through the window of the dark house I lovingly call home. I know when I get up to the door that my dad will be sitting in his favorite chair, wherever it might have been moved while I was away at school these past months. Yup, there he is, arm up over his head in his uniquely strange TV watching position. He's sound asleep until he hears me come in, then wakes up and pretends that he is engrossed in his favorite TV show. He'll tell me what it is as soon as the infomercial is over. I bring to him all my stories and quandaries from the last month away at Gordon and he listens like a good father, one eye on the TV, one eye on me. He listens, he ponders, I think, "He doesn't have a clue what I just told him. I must be boring him to death. Time for both of us to go to bed." Just as I go to get up, he starts pouring wisdom out of nowhere. I just soak it up because I want to know him more and more. College is fun but draining, it's exciting but makes me a tad bit homesick, enlightening but creates questions in me that only can be answered by someone I really trust, who I know is wise. That's my dad.
There's so much more to tell, but fast forward to now. It's been 2 1/2 years since my dad joined his father and Father in heaven. I have a peace about this that is beyond all understanding. When I recall how I sat my dad's feet, pouring out most of my soul and hoping for a wise response, I'm reminded that I can still do that with my heavenly Father. I feel so incredibly blessed to have had the opportunity to get to know my dad so well before he died. I miss him terribly. I ache for my brother and sister, whose children will never have met him. But it's a great privilege to have known my dad, and I'm thankful that God gave me that experience.
So, Gideon, for now, that's just a reminder that I still have a lot to learn about my dad. I'm curious now and so happy that I'll see him again. In my father's death, I was reminded of the sacrifice that God made in sending His son, so that we can have eternal life. In my father's death, that reality had new meaning for me. I can now rejoice in my father's life as a whole person and someday see him whole again. I might ask him why he was a "Gideon" or I might not have to. That remains to be seen!
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