My dad, who was ambidextrous, taught all three of his sons to bat left-handed, even though two of us were right-handed. We definitely connected that way.
My dad and I went to minor-league baseball games at old War Memorial Stadium together, in the days when crowds averaged about 1500 or so. We went to minor-league hockey games, and Division I basketball doubleheaders together, at the old Memorial Auditorium. We also bonded on the ride to and from the venues, which took about 45-60 minutes in the pre-NY 400 expressway days.
My dad was a lifelong Cubs fan, and fortunately was still alive when they finally won in 2016.
He was the ultimate example of what a father should be. If I have been/am half the dad to my son that he was to me, it will be my greatest achievement in life. He died in 2018, and I think about him/miss him every single day.
Wow, your column really hit home today. My wife has been at her dying father's side all week, and I wish there was something I could do the help her navigate this period in life. My daughter left for college this year, and I miss her a lot. I think I will give her a call, and definitely leave a voice mail if she doesn't answer!. Thank you for your wonderful stories, you are an amazing writer.
My Dad was a sports guy. He especially loved baseball, he coached little league and was very involved in our local league. He loved Beaver basketball and football. We always attended the Far West Classic together. It was a real treat. He's the one that started my love of OSU and the Beavs. I'll never forget listening to games on the radio with him. He passed away in 2004 forever a Beav.
I am a strong believer that the foundation you set with your kids when they are kids makes all the difference. That doesn’t mean redemption isn’t possible for many. My “kids” are now in their late 40s, and while in the past I haven’t been Mr Wonderful all the time they were and are the most important part of my life. I am grateful!
My oldest daughter and SiL are raising 5 kids(including twins) under the age of 11. They pretty much do a marathon a week :). But you are correct. Life is short. Leave a message, play on the floor. Pick the flowers, run the marathon and buy the Vette! Have a great weekend John! GoBeavs!
For some of us, Harry Chapin's song "The Cat's in the Cradle" is painful. Take long hours in a stressful job, bad parenting examples from your parents, and add divorce. That's a lot of obstacles for the parent-child relationship. My son and I mostly overcame, but not with my daughter.
Would I do things differently? Yes. I'd be a kinder, gentler father who was more involved. Not an excuse, but that wasn't how I was raised. My sibling and I think our parents didn't really want children. We were sort of in the way. My happiest moment as a child was when my dad coached my Babe Ruth Team. Challenged by our no-hitter pitcher he knocked the first pitch over the fence. The team were in awe of him after that. And for a moment we were close.
Parenting is, to say the obvious, hard. And it's a two-way street. Some children are harder to parent than others. Some seek us out, and some require great effort. All require patience and unconditional love.
The point of all this is to urge everyone to overcome and be a parent like John. Then Cats in the Cradle" won't make you sad.
The oldest of 4 kids, Dad had a practice of, once we reached 10, of taking us out for our own "special lunch" 2 times per year. ( I think he'd have done more, but our resources didn't allow for that). Mind you, $10 for a lunch in the mid '60's was a lot of money. That being said, I remember several "personal" conversations that he may/not have had with my siblings, but they are indelibly etched in my brain.
Not much of a sports guy as culturally, it wasn't really an "accepted" way of life for his immigrant family, nonetheless, he came, when he could to my baseball games and tennis matches. He even went so far as to become a Little League umpire.
Before he died 21 years ago, he reminded me that he did offer me encouragement and motivation when playing baseball. As a regional umpire in the Sacramento area, he was assigned to the game that our All-Star team was playing in for the rights to go to Williamsport PA. Our team was down 1-0 and I came to bat, 3rd inning, a man on First Base. He called a pitch a strike on me that, to my recollection, almost hit me in the foot.. I turned around, glared at him and he sternly told me to "turn around and hit". The very next pitch I hit a home run over the 220 foot mark to dead center, giving us a 2-1 lead.. We lost the game 4-2 and didn't make it to Williamsport.
On the ride home, he asked me if he had helped me hit the home run? I yelled about the pitch location. To this day, I'm certain he knew what he was doing. Those are the moments and are, forever, favorable in our memory.
Stories like this are always a little bittersweet for me. I loved my father, but he was a very difficult man to like. My childhood memories revolve around figuring out ways to leave the house when he was home, whether it was riding bikes with my buddies or playing road hockey - endless, "slap shots until it got dark" games of road hockey. I started playing on the ice at age 7 and continued playing through pee-wee, bantam, midget, juvenile, and beer league even after I finished college. I remember seeing dear old dad at exactly 1 game - my very first year at age 7. When I got home that evening he chewed me out because I held my stick left handed instead of right (I never changed). Never saw his face at one of my high school or college rugby games. To be fair, I don't remember ever seeing mom at any games either, so he had her topped. I have a vivid memory from age 10, walking down the street and vowing to myself "When I grow up, if I have kids, I will not treat them the way he treats us."
On the positive side, I held true to that vow. I may not have always connected with my son on a deep, emotional level, but I made every lacrosse game and practice. I loved him and encouraged him every step of the way. I am deeply proud of the man he has become and tell him so every time we talk. My daughter had me wrapped around her little finger from the day she arrived a little over 30 years ago. I was beyond blessed to walk her down the aisle last year and am quite proud of the fact that I made it through that without crying. The daddy-daughter dance? Fuggedaboutit! I shed an absolute river of tears - and they were tears of absolute, unbounding joy! My suit definitely had to go to the cleaners afterwards because my tears were reciprocated by her, allover the shoulder of my jacket.
Not sure why I felt compelled to share all of this, other than to maybe let one of Mr. Canzano's readers know that growing up with a crappy childhood does NOT mean you are doomed to raise your kids in the same way! And keep these coming, please.
Thank you for sharing. My parents divorced when I was 3. It was 1963 & divorce was very uncommon. It was also pretty unknown for a woman to raise children on her own. But that is what my mom did without any help from my father. She never spoke badly of him but she forbid him from seeing us. Needless to say I had lots of questions about him growing up and most were unanswered until my mom passed away. I learned that my father was not a good person and my mom left an abusive relationship to save her children and herself. My husband is the kind of father I never had. We have raised two wonderful boys who are now men. He would drop anything & everything to help them with anything. He is now a Papa & is so enjoying this new role. I know I wanted to marry a man who respected me, treated me well & was a good person. I did find that special guy and he is not only my husband but my best friend. I feel we all learn from our parents to hopefully be the best role model and overall good person that are children deserve, despite difficult upbringings.
Divorce in 1963 was tough. My mother had similar experiences dealing with whether to go through with it. Finally, around 1972, she did. She was so brave. Thank you for sharing!
It’s interesting John, I got up at 4:00 am and went for a walk with my dad just this morning. I do that every so often before the world wakes up.
My dad was my hero. And he died 2 1/2 years ago. I cherish our walks. I ask him questions and listen in the dark for what he tells me. Just because he’s not physically here doesn’t me he’s not here. In fact he’s even more present now.
I try to live into his shoes everyday with my twin daughters. For anyone interested, I wrote a letter to my daughters as a tribute to him after he died so they would know him better as they emerge into adulthood.
I still have a saved voicemail from my mom. It isn't about anything important, but it's her voice. She passed away in 2018 at age 68. It's good to hear her voice sometimes.
I’m choked up again, thank you John for your touching story. I grew up with 5 siblings, two older sisters a 4 year gap, then 3 more siblings.
In order to get my dad’s attention, I played sports from grade school through high school. He’d warm me up before a softball game and later became my tennis partner. Sports became my time for just my dad and I. He taught me how to whistle, no fingers, and I was loud and proud attending games at all levels. I miss him and I’ll be forever grateful for sports, bringing a bond with my dad.
Simply, I try to be present. And when I say try, it is an acknowledgement I'm far from perfect. Being present to me, is doing my best to understand what my daughters need in the moment, and then being present to provide it. And at times that means asking them what they would like to do and at times it means being in tune enough to think I know.
A talk, kick the soccer ball, shoot baskets, go out and have a glass of wine, watch the Civil war together and cry at the result :-), sit and say nothing, go to a Blazer game, talk about current events... it really doesn't matter. What matters to me and my daughters is my being present.
I'll keep trying to aspire to live by my own words until I'm buried, and then if I'm lucky enough to go to heaven, I'll keep trying some more.
My dad, who was ambidextrous, taught all three of his sons to bat left-handed, even though two of us were right-handed. We definitely connected that way.
My dad and I went to minor-league baseball games at old War Memorial Stadium together, in the days when crowds averaged about 1500 or so. We went to minor-league hockey games, and Division I basketball doubleheaders together, at the old Memorial Auditorium. We also bonded on the ride to and from the venues, which took about 45-60 minutes in the pre-NY 400 expressway days.
My dad was a lifelong Cubs fan, and fortunately was still alive when they finally won in 2016.
He was the ultimate example of what a father should be. If I have been/am half the dad to my son that he was to me, it will be my greatest achievement in life. He died in 2018, and I think about him/miss him every single day.
Being a great parent to your children has a double benefit. It sets the example for them to be great parents. The world becomes a better place, too.
Love this.
great comments EA!!!
If only more men looked at DadLife as the ultimate joy and responsibility…imagine how much better our world would be
Great column, Mr. C
GO DAWGS 😎
Thanks David.
100%! I look at Fathers Day every year as a(nother) day when I acknowledge how deeply blessed I am to be a Dad.
Wow, your column really hit home today. My wife has been at her dying father's side all week, and I wish there was something I could do the help her navigate this period in life. My daughter left for college this year, and I miss her a lot. I think I will give her a call, and definitely leave a voice mail if she doesn't answer!. Thank you for your wonderful stories, you are an amazing writer.
If you don't mind, share with us how it goes, moving forward. We can all keep learning how to do life.
My Dad was a sports guy. He especially loved baseball, he coached little league and was very involved in our local league. He loved Beaver basketball and football. We always attended the Far West Classic together. It was a real treat. He's the one that started my love of OSU and the Beavs. I'll never forget listening to games on the radio with him. He passed away in 2004 forever a Beav.
Thanks K. Appreciate you.
I am a strong believer that the foundation you set with your kids when they are kids makes all the difference. That doesn’t mean redemption isn’t possible for many. My “kids” are now in their late 40s, and while in the past I haven’t been Mr Wonderful all the time they were and are the most important part of my life. I am grateful!
Thanks Ed.
Great article thank you
My oldest daughter and SiL are raising 5 kids(including twins) under the age of 11. They pretty much do a marathon a week :). But you are correct. Life is short. Leave a message, play on the floor. Pick the flowers, run the marathon and buy the Vette! Have a great weekend John! GoBeavs!
That sounds like a triathlon!
For some of us, Harry Chapin's song "The Cat's in the Cradle" is painful. Take long hours in a stressful job, bad parenting examples from your parents, and add divorce. That's a lot of obstacles for the parent-child relationship. My son and I mostly overcame, but not with my daughter.
Would I do things differently? Yes. I'd be a kinder, gentler father who was more involved. Not an excuse, but that wasn't how I was raised. My sibling and I think our parents didn't really want children. We were sort of in the way. My happiest moment as a child was when my dad coached my Babe Ruth Team. Challenged by our no-hitter pitcher he knocked the first pitch over the fence. The team were in awe of him after that. And for a moment we were close.
Parenting is, to say the obvious, hard. And it's a two-way street. Some children are harder to parent than others. Some seek us out, and some require great effort. All require patience and unconditional love.
The point of all this is to urge everyone to overcome and be a parent like John. Then Cats in the Cradle" won't make you sad.
Just don't give up on your child, it can be a long haul.
The oldest of 4 kids, Dad had a practice of, once we reached 10, of taking us out for our own "special lunch" 2 times per year. ( I think he'd have done more, but our resources didn't allow for that). Mind you, $10 for a lunch in the mid '60's was a lot of money. That being said, I remember several "personal" conversations that he may/not have had with my siblings, but they are indelibly etched in my brain.
Not much of a sports guy as culturally, it wasn't really an "accepted" way of life for his immigrant family, nonetheless, he came, when he could to my baseball games and tennis matches. He even went so far as to become a Little League umpire.
Before he died 21 years ago, he reminded me that he did offer me encouragement and motivation when playing baseball. As a regional umpire in the Sacramento area, he was assigned to the game that our All-Star team was playing in for the rights to go to Williamsport PA. Our team was down 1-0 and I came to bat, 3rd inning, a man on First Base. He called a pitch a strike on me that, to my recollection, almost hit me in the foot.. I turned around, glared at him and he sternly told me to "turn around and hit". The very next pitch I hit a home run over the 220 foot mark to dead center, giving us a 2-1 lead.. We lost the game 4-2 and didn't make it to Williamsport.
On the ride home, he asked me if he had helped me hit the home run? I yelled about the pitch location. To this day, I'm certain he knew what he was doing. Those are the moments and are, forever, favorable in our memory.
This is genius.
“Oh, and don’t just hang up if nobody answers — leave a voicemail message.
They’re time capsules for your children.”
For two years I’ve often thought my only regret was not keeping voicemails from my dad.
Thank you John, for writing this.
Thank you James.
Stories like this are always a little bittersweet for me. I loved my father, but he was a very difficult man to like. My childhood memories revolve around figuring out ways to leave the house when he was home, whether it was riding bikes with my buddies or playing road hockey - endless, "slap shots until it got dark" games of road hockey. I started playing on the ice at age 7 and continued playing through pee-wee, bantam, midget, juvenile, and beer league even after I finished college. I remember seeing dear old dad at exactly 1 game - my very first year at age 7. When I got home that evening he chewed me out because I held my stick left handed instead of right (I never changed). Never saw his face at one of my high school or college rugby games. To be fair, I don't remember ever seeing mom at any games either, so he had her topped. I have a vivid memory from age 10, walking down the street and vowing to myself "When I grow up, if I have kids, I will not treat them the way he treats us."
On the positive side, I held true to that vow. I may not have always connected with my son on a deep, emotional level, but I made every lacrosse game and practice. I loved him and encouraged him every step of the way. I am deeply proud of the man he has become and tell him so every time we talk. My daughter had me wrapped around her little finger from the day she arrived a little over 30 years ago. I was beyond blessed to walk her down the aisle last year and am quite proud of the fact that I made it through that without crying. The daddy-daughter dance? Fuggedaboutit! I shed an absolute river of tears - and they were tears of absolute, unbounding joy! My suit definitely had to go to the cleaners afterwards because my tears were reciprocated by her, allover the shoulder of my jacket.
Not sure why I felt compelled to share all of this, other than to maybe let one of Mr. Canzano's readers know that growing up with a crappy childhood does NOT mean you are doomed to raise your kids in the same way! And keep these coming, please.
Thank you for sharing. My parents divorced when I was 3. It was 1963 & divorce was very uncommon. It was also pretty unknown for a woman to raise children on her own. But that is what my mom did without any help from my father. She never spoke badly of him but she forbid him from seeing us. Needless to say I had lots of questions about him growing up and most were unanswered until my mom passed away. I learned that my father was not a good person and my mom left an abusive relationship to save her children and herself. My husband is the kind of father I never had. We have raised two wonderful boys who are now men. He would drop anything & everything to help them with anything. He is now a Papa & is so enjoying this new role. I know I wanted to marry a man who respected me, treated me well & was a good person. I did find that special guy and he is not only my husband but my best friend. I feel we all learn from our parents to hopefully be the best role model and overall good person that are children deserve, despite difficult upbringings.
Divorce in 1963 was tough. My mother had similar experiences dealing with whether to go through with it. Finally, around 1972, she did. She was so brave. Thank you for sharing!
Thank you. And I believe we are of pretty much the same vintage.
You are correct! Thanks for sharing.
Great column. I'd love to see her film. I hope it makes to the Sacramento area or becomes available streaming.
Will keep you posted.
I would also listen to the late Harry Chapin sing his "Cat's in the Cradle", chances are it will tear you up every time. Just sayin', Charlie
See my comment elsewhere. It's a sad reminder.
It’s interesting John, I got up at 4:00 am and went for a walk with my dad just this morning. I do that every so often before the world wakes up.
My dad was my hero. And he died 2 1/2 years ago. I cherish our walks. I ask him questions and listen in the dark for what he tells me. Just because he’s not physically here doesn’t me he’s not here. In fact he’s even more present now.
I try to live into his shoes everyday with my twin daughters. For anyone interested, I wrote a letter to my daughters as a tribute to him after he died so they would know him better as they emerge into adulthood.
https://open.substack.com/pub/anaudienceoftwo/p/life-enriching-relationships?r=3bqj2&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web
Thank you again John. I look forward to EVERY one of your pieces.
What a great piece of writing.
Thank you Andrew. Very appreciated. I hope you have a nice weekend.
I still have a saved voicemail from my mom. It isn't about anything important, but it's her voice. She passed away in 2018 at age 68. It's good to hear her voice sometimes.
I’m choked up again, thank you John for your touching story. I grew up with 5 siblings, two older sisters a 4 year gap, then 3 more siblings.
In order to get my dad’s attention, I played sports from grade school through high school. He’d warm me up before a softball game and later became my tennis partner. Sports became my time for just my dad and I. He taught me how to whistle, no fingers, and I was loud and proud attending games at all levels. I miss him and I’ll be forever grateful for sports, bringing a bond with my dad.
Simply, I try to be present. And when I say try, it is an acknowledgement I'm far from perfect. Being present to me, is doing my best to understand what my daughters need in the moment, and then being present to provide it. And at times that means asking them what they would like to do and at times it means being in tune enough to think I know.
A talk, kick the soccer ball, shoot baskets, go out and have a glass of wine, watch the Civil war together and cry at the result :-), sit and say nothing, go to a Blazer game, talk about current events... it really doesn't matter. What matters to me and my daughters is my being present.
I'll keep trying to aspire to live by my own words until I'm buried, and then if I'm lucky enough to go to heaven, I'll keep trying some more.
Great article John!