On Bearing the Image

It's my Dad's birthday.  He would have been eighty-four.  The fact that he grew up during the Great Depression informed his whole life.  My siblings and I often speak of him as having been cheap--but in truth most of his frugality grew out of a real understanding of what it meant to go without.  And while we lived at times in rather tight quarters (all through high school, for instance, the six of us were crowded into a one-bedroom apartment) and food was never in abundance (things like cookies were carefully counted out and divided amongst us) we never really went without.  I was never hungry or homeless.  And I'm sure one of the reasons that was so was because Dad kept close track of his money.

But while Dad was very tight when it came to material things, he was exceedingly generous with some of the intangibles.  Like an appreciation of beauty. He loved good music, fine art and theater.  And he made sure we were all exposed to such things.  We had lovely paintings on the walls, and tickets (often free!) to classical concerts and trips to the local repertory theater. 

And affection.  He liberally doled that out to all of us.  He was never afraid of a good hug.  He told us often that he loved us.  And a kiss goodnight was a regular part of the daily ritual.

And faith.  OK--he was a preacher--so such would be expected.  But while he had very definite ideas about his beliefs, and hoped that we would adopt them, he never forced them down our throats.  Yes, we read the Bible together every night.  Yes, we held hands and prayed around the dinner table.  Yes, we were expected to attend church services on Sundays (and quizzed about the sermon on the ride home)--but we were also given the space to develop our own religious understandings.  In high school the rule was, you had to attend worship on the weekend, but you could go wherever you wanted to go.  I am convinced my commitment to ecumenism and interfaith cooperation began right there.

As I get older (I'm sixty) I look more and more like my Dad.  There was a time in my life when I would have been appalled at the prospect.  He and I had our moments.  But looking back now, I am proud to bear his image. 

Happy birthday, Dad!

(Photo:  John and Howard Danner, circa 1988)