Where did I get that stubborn streak?

Today marks the second Father’s Day since my father’s death.  People who have known me a long time know that my relationship with my dad was often rocky. We did not always see eye to eye and it really bothered my dad that I would not back down and agree to his way of thinking.  I once asked him where he thought I got that trait? He huffed a bit and said, “must be from your mom.”  Good one, Dad. I think there was a strong stubborn streak running through both of my parents and I got a double dose in my own DNA.

My dad was the one who taught me to question authority and not accept the way things have always been done. He would tell me to say I was doing something, rather than ask if I could do something. He also was a proponent of asking forgiveness rather than permission…except when it came to his own authority.   Mainly, I was supposed to apply these lessons to the outside world. He was a bit frustrated when I tried these ideas closer to home first. 

Once my dad accepted he had a type A, driven type of kid on his hands, he was all about pushing to me to succeed.  He would say, “this is great, but don’t rest on your laurels. What’s next?”

Both sides of my family include political, public service minded, entrepreneurial small business owner types.  My dad was raised by a single mother after his own dad died when he was a teenager.  With three young children, she earned a college degree and became the owner of several businesses.  My dad was so proud of my Grandma Anita and he often held her up to me as a role model.  It should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me that she helped get a Women’s Studies program started at the junior college in her community.  

My father was something of a serial entrepreneur who owned, at different times, various retail ventures, restaurants, and movie theaters. The constant in his career was his work in the realm of magic.  He invented magic effects, wrote books on how to perform magic routines, lectured on performing techniques, and produced instructional videos for the magic community.  His work brought him into certain entertainment circles. He was always trying to introduce me to famous entertainers.  I was always trying to be studiously unimpressed by whatever household name he had call me or had sent over to meet me at some gathering.  I am not sure how or why I decided to always play it cool no matter who I met, but those early experiences helped me to develop an “act like you have been here before” veneer that has helped to carry me through a few high octane moments later in life.

On this Father’s Day, I found myself thinking back to the eve of my wedding.  My Jewish dad was bravely soldiering his way through all the trappings of a Catholic wedding. We had just finished the rehearsal and had not yet left the cathedral.  Dad walked up to me and said, “You know, it is not too late. You don’t have to go through with this.”

I looked at him and exclaimed, “Dad!”

He replied, “No, really. Weddings are like a runaway train of pomp and circumstance.  All the pageantry and frills aside, there is still time to call it off.”

“But Dad, I am all in. This is it for me, really.”

Dad said, “If you want to get away tonight, I will help you go wherever you want to go. Just say the word.”

I laughed, “I appreciate the offer but I really am all in. This is happening.”

The next day my mom and dad walked me down the aisle together. When we reached my husband-to-be, my dad - with tears streaming down his face - took my hand and placed it into Dave’s waiting clasp.  It took him a moment to let go.  Later, my husband would say he had not been sure my dad was going to let go.  Letting go was never an easy thing for my dad to do.  That is one more legacy from my father I carry with me, letting go is not an easy thing for me either.  Today, I am struck by the idea that although I had to let my dad go from this world, I do not ever have to let go of the memories or the love I have for him.