An Ode to my Father

I realize on many occasions how much I love my father. I remember a time when my dad was my hero. There was no thing cooler to me than growing up to be a music teacher, having a wicked awesome mustache, and being Mr. Fix-it. I can't say that my Dad and I have always shared the most wonderful relationship, but I think that is beginning or has already begun to change. Part of that starts with me. My dad, from a glance, is an ordinary man, but I feel that such a word as "ordinary" not only forsakes this man the justice he deserves, but it is wrongful to say. I am Grateful to have been raised by such a great man.

My dad has faced a lot in his life. Much of which, I feel is wrong to share without his consent, but there are things I can and would like to share about him. He was a music teacher for 29 years, and when I look back to what I can remember about those years, it brings me great joy to remember my father loving his work, and getting to express himself through teaching and music (things that I believe I share with him). He retired when i was about 12. Being a man of great love, and of great care for his family, he started looking for work again, and after some time, he found a job at Star Tech. If my dad and I are anything alike, I can imagine how much "fun" it is to work there. My dad spent, I don't know, a month in training? He has been at Star Tech now for a good 9 or 10 years. This is what I love about him. He is a responsible man that I look up to. He grinned and bore the weight of a job that really isn't all that fabulous.

My Dad, for a short period after his retirement, worked a job at the Villa. From what I remember...it was something of a trial. I remember hearing a lot of stories about a resident named Laraine. Which we happily parodied the Jonny Nash song, "i can see clearly now" in a joyous refrain: "I can see clearly now LARAINE is gone!"

My Dad has done a lot of work in his life, a lot of changing, and taken a lot of burden upon himself. But the thing I admire most about my father is not his ability to pick himself up by the bootstraps, but his willingness to surrender. I am grateful that my dad is a man who earnestly wants the heart of God to collide with his own. He has always wanted this for his children, and I hope it brings him great honor to know that I have the same desire as he does, to know the heart of God, to know his desires and to pursue them with a ferocious tenacity.

My dad is protector, a lover, a joker, an artist, reserved, prayerful, compassionate, and admirable.

My dad is a sweet man. He used to let me make his Folger's coffee in the mornings, he liked it extra strong, so I would always put three or four spoonfuls of instant coffee in his mug and fill it proudly with water from the coffee pot. He would politely drink and tell me that it was perfect! My dad would always hold me, and I think if I wasn't 6', 300 lbs, he still would. I remember watching Saturday cartoons with my father at 6 am. I remember working on boyscout race cars and spending all morning in a weird building. My dad knew my car wouldn't win, but he always supported me...i think once he bought me a trophy, I wish i still had it. In plastic labeling tape it read, "Paul Beveridge, #1 son". I remember just sitting with my dad in the garage at the old hillside house admiring his hands at work. I remember that he painted everything with red, green, and gold spray paint. My dad built a tree house with, or perhaps "for" is a better word, me and my brother. He put food on the table, and loved my mother (still does :]).

Now I am moved out, but the creed of my father's life has not been quenched, he still prays for me, he still loves me and my brother and my mom. He mentors young men, and is more than a valuable resource. My father serves with quiet reserve and I love him.

My Dad in many ways is still my hero, though he may not know it always. He is ordinarily extraordinary.

You should meet him. It might do you some good.

Love you, Dad

That is all.