World’s Greatest Dad

He would have argued about that with me. For years, we’ve had this debate. It looks like in the end, I won.

That was my dad. He was a fighter. Being tough. Standing tall. Believing in his convictions. Dad didn’t mess around. He shot from the hip and gave it to you straight. You could almost measure how much he loved you by how much flak he gave you. If he didn’t give you any grief it either meant he didn’t know you very well or he didn’t like you all that much. I know he really liked Pat , my stepmom and me!

Ever since I was a little girl, Dad would teach me about life through his stories. Some were straightforward. Many had a funny twist. But they all stuck with me through the years and I thought I’d share a few with you.

One of the first stories I remember was when I was a teenager going through a rough period in my life and had just moved in with him as he was going through a divorce. We were driving home from church on a Sunday evening and he began to tell me about Peaks & Valleys. “Ya know, kid. Everyone goes through peaks and valleys in life. Sometimes you’re up. Sometimes you’re down. But in order to get to the peak, you must go through the valley.”

Two years later after Dad and I walked through that valley together, Pat was waiting for us on the next peak. He had been right all along.

There were so many things he taught me in his stern “You listening to me, kid?” way but always with a touch of comic relief around the edges. Here are just a few of them:

He taught me. . .

. . .How to cook. (A Chuck steak cost less than a package of hot dogs and tastes a lot better.)

. . .How to balance a checkbook.

. . . How to play while away a Saturday afternoon playing Michigan Rummy, Cheater or Balderdash.

. . .That a car really does need oil before 60,000 miles.

. . .That it felt better to have a clean bathroom than a perfect manicure.

. . .That it’s better to be a Live Chicken than a DEAD Duck.

. . .That if you argue with a fool, you have two fools arguing.

. . .When to hold’em, when to fold’em and when to walk away.

. . .That Common Sense is a virtue, although I never seemed to apply it as much as he would have liked. He’d give me that look that said, “Are you pulling my leg or are you really that blonde?” (Please see above comment about car oil.)

. . .That being a parent requires the patience of a saint, the resilience of Teflon and an extra set of eyes in the back of your head. It also doesn’t hurt to keep a mileage log when your daughter is a teenage driver and you own a Firebird.

. . .That respect is earned – Not a given.

. . .That it’s okay to make mistakes, as long as you learn something from the experience.

. . .That a sense of humor goes a long way in making friends as well as easing the load of a heavy heart.

. . .That it’s not what a person does for a living, what kind of car they drive or how they dress but what’s inside their heart that truly matters.

. . .That having the freedom to make your own decisions also means having to live with the consequences of those decisions.

And finally, that sometimes it’s a grumpy o’ man with a marshmallow heart that can teach you the most.

I love you, Dad. Your lessons didn’t fall on deaf ears even if it appeared that way at times. I was listening then and I’m listening now as you live on inside my heart forever.

Leslie Allison Seei
February 8, 2006