The Background at the Center of Things

My dad has always been fond of saying that he was “born to be in the background at the center of things”. But he never says it with any bitterness or resentment; where would we be, after all, without the people who were there to witness the important things in our lives?

My dad has done a lot of incredible things and known a lot of incredible people. He played with The Beatles before they became famous, was the back-up runner for Tommie Smith at the Olympics, competed in sports with Caitlyn Jenner, and knew OJ Simpson when he was young. He gets along with everyone and always emphasizes how important it is to do the right thing. If you ask him, though, he’ll probably tell you that the best thing he’s ever done is to raise three wonderful (and very stubborn) daughters.

My dad is the kind of man who is happiest sitting outside in the sun, smoking a cigar and reading the newspaper, with the sounds of summer birds and happy grandkids mingling in the background. He drinks his coffee black because it’s not coffee with all that crap in it. He loves telling stories about the old days, casually name-dropping some famous person he used to know or laughing about the time he and his best friend stole the communion wine from the local church and got drunk in a treehouse. He insists on walking it off even when he really shouldn’t and then rolls his eyes when you tell him that.

He loved watermelons so much as a kid that he entered a watermelon-eating contest, and then won it after inhaling three and a half watermelons. For 1st place, he was “awarded” another watermelon (which he probably also ate). He no longer eats watermelon.

As a teenager, he tried to outrun a deer in the forest and succeeded; he says that the pure shock in its face when he grabbed it by the antlers was one of the funniest things he’s ever seen.

And as an adult, he was drafted into the military for the Vietnam War, where he was the only person in his unit to come back alive. But even still, he tells stories about his shenanigans with the other soldiers and laughs.

He went on to law school and became the top of his class, even though his parents had never graduated high school, and now dedicates a significant portion of his time to non-profits and his community (even if he complains about it because it’s “boring”). He met another man with three daughters in Botswana, then supported them through the pandemic and paid for the youngest to go to college.

My dad is a wonderful person, and in the end, I am who I am because of him. I have his eyes, and his sense of humor, and the same love for rhubarb pie. I even make the same obnoxious face he makes when he thinks you said something dumb.

We “discuss” things the same way, which really means that we yell at each other until we agree, and then insist that we were never arguing. He taught me to do the right thing, to help others when I can, and to trust myself. I don’t really have a single story that defines my dad, because in the end, my dad is the culmination of all of his stories. And true to his claim that he was “born to be in the background at the center of things”, he’s always been there for me, letting me be my own person but always there to witness to the important events in my life.