Our dad was a stickler for little things. He passed away the week before last, just shy of his 89th birthday. Thank you, dad, for everything you did for us three brothers, preparing us for the world, instilling good values, demonstrating the meaning of hard work day after day, without complaining.
I use the “thank you” phrase because he felt it was an under-used statement. He so seldom knocked anybody else that sometimes we could forget that he did have little things that bugged him.
One of his favorites to skewer was the growing use of “no problem” as the two words of choice in service settings. You might tell a wait person at the restaurant that the bread was delicious and when you heard, “No problem” as the response, he would get irked.
“There wasn’t any problem to begin with,” he would say, “so why are they acting like some problem was averted?” He was right. For some reason, that phrase has crept into our daily language, like other statements that don’t really mean much of anything.
Dad was an old world guy. Be direct. Say what you mean. Use manners. Think for yourself. Don’t beat around the bush. Say “thank you” when that is appropriate.
Our world is a lesser place without our dad. He helped others in so many ways, never asking for thanks himself. Instead, he just “did.” He went out and got things done, accomplished tasks, volunteered his time after retirement (and before) so that kids with lesser opportunities gained some of his wisdom and attitude.
How we affect others is an odd thing. Sometimes through the use of language we are able to raise others up, teach a lesson, expand knowledge. I’ve taken lessons from our father through his approach and though I’m more the word guy in our family, I’ve still gained many tips from him that influence how I choose to communicate.
That’s one of those things about fathers (parents) we don’t consider until we become one ourselves: Some of the biggest lessons are learned (when you are the kid) through a form of osmosis. You pick things up by watching, paying attention, not from being lectured.
Dad taught through doing. We learned through his actions how to handle a saw, throw a baseball, shake hands and look someone in the eye, set aside time to relax with a nap after a busy week.
The world is a lesser place with our dad gone from this earthly place. Whether he was building a house, mowng the grass, turning the mulch over in his garden or teaching a kid the basics of the three-point football stance , he was improving things. He made the world better, and there’s a lot to be said for that.
We need more people like him, and I hope his influence remains strong despite his passing. I’m sure my two brothers and I will keep many humorous phrases, funny stories and jokes alive long into the future, with “no problems.”
We’ll say our “thank you’s,” remember to extend a “my pleasure” to someone we’ve helped, and an “I appreciate that” when someone steps forward with kindness towards us. Those little things will become bigger things the more we repeat them.
We miss you, dad, but we won’t forget you. You kumquat.
I use the “thank you” phrase because he felt it was an under-used statement. He so seldom knocked anybody else that sometimes we could forget that he did have little things that bugged him.
One of his favorites to skewer was the growing use of “no problem” as the two words of choice in service settings. You might tell a wait person at the restaurant that the bread was delicious and when you heard, “No problem” as the response, he would get irked.
“There wasn’t any problem to begin with,” he would say, “so why are they acting like some problem was averted?” He was right. For some reason, that phrase has crept into our daily language, like other statements that don’t really mean much of anything.
Dad was an old world guy. Be direct. Say what you mean. Use manners. Think for yourself. Don’t beat around the bush. Say “thank you” when that is appropriate.
Our world is a lesser place without our dad. He helped others in so many ways, never asking for thanks himself. Instead, he just “did.” He went out and got things done, accomplished tasks, volunteered his time after retirement (and before) so that kids with lesser opportunities gained some of his wisdom and attitude.
How we affect others is an odd thing. Sometimes through the use of language we are able to raise others up, teach a lesson, expand knowledge. I’ve taken lessons from our father through his approach and though I’m more the word guy in our family, I’ve still gained many tips from him that influence how I choose to communicate.
That’s one of those things about fathers (parents) we don’t consider until we become one ourselves: Some of the biggest lessons are learned (when you are the kid) through a form of osmosis. You pick things up by watching, paying attention, not from being lectured.
Dad taught through doing. We learned through his actions how to handle a saw, throw a baseball, shake hands and look someone in the eye, set aside time to relax with a nap after a busy week.
The world is a lesser place with our dad gone from this earthly place. Whether he was building a house, mowng the grass, turning the mulch over in his garden or teaching a kid the basics of the three-point football stance , he was improving things. He made the world better, and there’s a lot to be said for that.
We need more people like him, and I hope his influence remains strong despite his passing. I’m sure my two brothers and I will keep many humorous phrases, funny stories and jokes alive long into the future, with “no problems.”
We’ll say our “thank you’s,” remember to extend a “my pleasure” to someone we’ve helped, and an “I appreciate that” when someone steps forward with kindness towards us. Those little things will become bigger things the more we repeat them.
We miss you, dad, but we won’t forget you. You kumquat.