Traditions Lost and Found

Father’s Day was tougher than I’ve remembered it being and I am not sure why. My dad passed away over ten years ago but for some reason, the enormity of his absence last Sunday was lodged deep within me. I talked to my grandfather – my dad’s father – and for him and his continued deep presence in my life, I am always grateful.

My grandfather shared a story about my dad going to a YMCA camp when he was young – and about my dad not being so sure about going. This was in response to my telling my grandpa that my son Taggart, age 7 (today!) – was starting a YMCA camp this week – and, he wasn’t too sure about going . . . Funny how traditions we didn’t even know about get passed on from generation to generation.

Speaking of traditions, I once asked my dad about our ancestors and our family's traditions and he answered with the following letter (a letter I cherish and read often).

Dear Meaghan,

It’s cool and cloudy in Detroit this morning. Yesterday it was one of those incredibly beautiful fall days – sunny and 60. You have got me thinking about what traditions your ancestors have passed along to you. Aside from what I said on the phone, I have thought of a bunch of other things. Spirituality and music are at the top of the list. Athletics and an intellectual strain would be included. What else – the love of singing, a poignant lyric, a tendency toward poetry – the perfect word in the right place – the appropriate description of anything – the priority and love of children –our real future – our only future - the wonder of a country scene or city street, snow on the hills – the love of rivers, hills and lakes – Michigan means “turtle” in Ojibwa – what does Tennessee mean? – the beauty of a kid waiting for a school bus – a person on a bench – at our best the wonder of the day – nearly every day – toast and coffee - lunch with a friend – I haven’t mentioned DANCING in the dining room or wherever to a song we love . . . remember. Horses in the pasture – Alice Walker’s Horses Make a Landscape More Beautiful – curiosity about how things work and the things we see and hear when our eyes and ears are open . . . everything is beautiful when we pay attention . . .

. . . the greatest art is a nurturing landscape, seascape, or horizon because we only have these things on loan from you children. We have tried to give you a common sense approach to what is right and wrong. You don’t need a law degree to figure it out, or a master’s degree or Ph.D. I read recently in a Sufi book that the only sin is waste.

I’ll lighten up Meg. Solar is good. Windmills are nice. Log cabins. Teepees. Organic gardens, orchards, vineyards, pastures, forest. Bicycles, baseball, soccer, a good book, a water-color, a swift, clear creek or stream, horses, cows, roller-blades, campfires, a pocket-knife, Saturday dances, a cigarette, a joint, a hug, a swim, a sweat lodge, friends, work you love and believe in, the respect of those you respect, love, a warm shirt on a chilly day, moccasins, good socks, a Navajo rug – is that enough to keep your generation occupied? A guitar, a piano, banjo, clogging and nurturing the kids around us to the best of our ability. That’s the weight you’ve been given and it’s not always easy but mostly you’ll sleep well at night. It’s always for the kids, right? – you, Chris, Sarah, Terri, Kacie, Justin, Jeff, Allison, Kevin, Leah, Adam, Lisa, Alex.

I’ll never forget your basketball-track days. It will take you a while to really comprehend how beautiful the Suttons Bay relays really were –whether you won or lost – but of course your team set a record – but aside from the setting on Lake Michigan – it was just you healthy kids running with the wind in bright colors. Nothing could be simpler or better.

I think of you everyday.
Peace and Love,
Dad

Cultivating and sustaining traditions has always been important to me and I think Father’s Day reignited the sadness I feel about my father’s absence in my children’s lives. He would have loved my children – adored them as he adored me and my brother – and I hate that they don’t get to be on the receiving end of my father’s warmth and affection. I am reminded that I need to do a better job of continuing to share my dad with my kids and foster the connections we share with him – spiritually, through my memories, and by living the values he instilled in me.

This letter is certainly one I will share with my kids one day when they are old enough to understand it. It says a lot about who my father was and what he believed in. And, who I am and where I came from. My relationship with my dad certainly wasn’t perfect. In fact, it was often tenuous and tense; sometimes we simply could not give each other what the other needed. But our relationship was always under girded by an unfaltering love – and luckily, we both held tightly to that knowledge when all else failed.

The nicest thing my dad ever said to me occurred the last time my brother and I saw him before his sudden passing. We were hanging out at the property where he was living, listening to music, and eating breakfast. During our perfectly ordinary conversation he looked at us and said, “Time spent with the two of you are like moments of grace.”

Nothing could be simpler or better.

I think of him every day. And some days more than others. Father’s Day was just one of those days.