My father is my hero. If I, at any point in my life, am able to feel like half the man my father is, I will consider my life a success. Everything I value in myself I learned from dad, and everything I strive to be is for my dad. I don't know what or where I would be if it had not been for his example.
I give the military, and GI's in general a lot of grief, but I know in my heart that the army saved me from a life of white trash hell. My dad grew up in tiny, back-woods Tennessee towns. He has more brothers and sisters than I can name. And the life he comes from is one of desperation and poverty. He met my mother somehow, I never did understand how they met and they got married. Dad joined the army to get out of the trap all of his siblings were falling into.
Drugs, alcoholism, abuse, crime, these are the words that personify my family's name. When I was born, dad dedicated his life to insuring that I would never be defined by my name. As I grew older I came to understand that my life was vastly different from that of my extended family. Eventually I came to understand that this was because dad made sure I would have more than he did. He gave everything to his family. He was the best father a man could have been.
As a child I very seldom got to see my father on the job. But on those few occasions that I was able to see him at work, I loved it. He was the embodiment of discipline, authority, self control, pride, and all of the buzz words you hear on the "Be All You Can Be" campaigns. From some horrid hour before I woke up, until whenever he came home he was Sgt. Norman. But once he came home, and the uniform came off, he was dad. Playing with me in the living room floor. Being my role model.
I would practice looking like dad. Walking like him. Talking like him. I wanted to be like that. Head up, eyes forward and focused. Firm, condfident. Kind and utterly unstoppable. To this day, when in a job interview, or in any situation where I find myself doubting my worth. Any time I find myself scared or nervous, I slip into that role. I am somehow able to wrap all of my doubts into the security of the fact that I am my father's son. If I don't know how to deal with a situation, I find confidence that my father's blood flows in me, and that will give me the ability to succeed.
I am, by education an conditioning, swayed toward the nurture side of the nature vs. nurture argument. I believe that people are generally a product of their respective environments. Children growing up among criminals generally become criminals, and so forth. But dad sort of throws a little chaos into that theory. How did dad grow up in an environment that is so chaotic and wind up with such compassion and genuine concern?
I am the first male with my last name to even have graduated high school. Dad dropped out to help support his family, and got his GED when he went into the army. I graduated high school in 95, college in 2000 and I will be starting a master's degree in December of 2001. I'm doing it because dad taught me the importance of education. He put his hopes in me, and I could not bear to let him down.
I consider my father and I to be a new, green branch in my family tree. Shooting from the trunk toward the sky, with all of the potential in the world. But that leads to one sobering realization. I'm his only son.
How in the hell am I going to find a way to do what he did? I can't fathom raising a child. I see guys my age having kids without a second thought. They have a baby and think nothing of it. But to me, having a child is a step I am scared to take. Scared to be put in the role of nurturer. I'm still learning from dad. How can I be expected to take on his role? I don't feel like I'll ever be prepared for that.
I know that once I do have a child, it is up to me to give that child every ounce of my father's love and dedication. I will have to set an example of honesty, integrity and intelligence. I will have to build a world of support. Show the child how to look at an ugly world and find beauty. Teach the child everything I know. Give it a platform, higher than the platform raised by my father from which to start. That is more pressure than I can bear to imagine. Maybe its that fear that forces me to withdraw from any meaningful relationships I might stumble my way into.
People often use the phrase "Be a man". But very few people know what this means. I know what it means. And it has nothing to do with fearlessness. It has nothing to do with pain threshold, or physical prowess. It has nothing to do with sexuality. Being a man means being responsible. Taking care of yourself and family. Being respectable.
I still feel like a kid, standing in my father's huge shoes, not knowing how anyone's feet could be that big. Every time I think of him I wonder, if I get my strength from him, where does his strength come from?