Tag: family

An Experience That Shaped His Entire Life

Every family has stories told so often that they’re part of our collective legacy. When older relatives do the retelling, we might roll our eyes. Not this one again…

In my family, there are many. The time my mother caught a 95-pound Nile perch at Lake Victoria. My father setting a senior track record for the mile in his early 40s. My brother catching trout in the Sierra Nevada on a scouting trip, using only a stick, some line, and a bare hook. The time I defied my parents’ warnings and snuck into a screening of Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange while it still had an X rating.

But there’s no tale as powerful and poignant as the one told by my father about an incident in his childhood. Even now—at age 95—that moment can emerge from his dementia and stir the waters of his memory. In 2019, he preserved the episode as a letter to my brothers and me, claiming he recalled it on a daily basis throughout his life.

Here’s the outline.

It was the summer of 1935, midway through the Great Depression, and Dad was five years old. On a bucolic day in the countryside, he was with his mother at the Wisconsin farm of some relatives. While she attended a quilting party, Dad went to a swimming hole with his cousin, Sally. Not unlike Dad, he boasted to her that he had just learned to swim. To prove it, he would take a raft to the middle of the pond, which was about 11 feet deep. Then he would let go and paddle back to her, putting his cockiness to the test. I’ll let him tell you what happened next.

“When I reached a spot close to the bank, I gave the raft a shove. However, I was so tired getting it to this spot, and the raft was now moving away from me so that I could not swim to it. As I began to sink underwater, I said a prayer to God: ‘Please do not let my parents blame themselves for my drowning. It was all my fault!’ As I sank, I made one last attempt to breath, but all I got was a mouthful of water. As I passed out, I was floating with white light all around me. This went on for quite some time until I sensed that someone was placing their hands on my hips and lifting me up, setting me in shallower water. When I opened my mouth, water flowed out. I began to breathe but I was blind. Then I heard Sally shouting at me, ‘Why were you down so long? What happened?’”

I won’t idealize my father. Like all of us, he had his faults, especially his workaholism that kept him from spending more quality time with us. That addiction left a vortex at the center of our family.

But in this story—what Dad always called a miracle—I see some of the core beliefs that informed the arc of his life, truly a Horatio Alger story, rising from poverty to the upper echelons of corporate America. If you are agnostic or atheistic like some of my friends, suspend your judgment for a moment and just encounter this human being I call my father.

  • Notice that he didn’t ask God to save him for his own benefit. His petition was to spare his parents from blaming themselves that he had drowned. This sense of other-centeredness and duty was a hallmark of his character. One of six boys, he was the only one that cared for his parents in their final years, providing for them physically and financially. He showed that same kind of devotion to our nuclear family.
  • He saw his near-drowning as the proverbial second chance in life. God had rescued him for a purpose, and he wanted to honor God for that reprieve.
  • After that day, he says he sought God’s guidance at key junctures in life, especially before critical decisions. Though he and I have faith perspectives that are widely divergent, I resonate with the need to find direction from a power greater than myself.

Do you have a childhood memory that lays hold to your mind and heart? Does it still act as a lodestar for your life’s journey? If so, have you shared it with others?

Here are the final words of Dad’s recollection as he transcribed it in 2019.

“When my sight came back, I walked up to the house where mother was attending the quilting party. As she saw me coming in the door, she came to me and said, ‘What has happened to you?’ (There must have been something about my face that she would ask that question). I said, ‘Mom, I just want to take a nap.’

“I kept this miracle to myself for many decades because I didn’t want my parents to worry about me. I told my mother only after she was older.

“Love and prayers to all three of you, Dad.”

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Three Verses, Eternal Light

Whether it’s verses from your religious tradition, or memes from public figures, proof texting is precarious. We all see it: social media flooded with words out of context, warped by prejudice and politics.

Still, there are times when ancient wisdom jibes EXACTLY with both its origin and the present moment, shedding eternal light. Here’s a case in point, but first some background.

My parents grew up during the Great Depression with clear scripts for their futures. Get married, settle down, work hard, have kids. They labored tirelessly, my father as a financial wizard, my mother as a capable homemaker. Eventually, Dad became CFO of a large, publicly traded company, quite a feat for a boy raised on a Wisconsin farm.

In their later years, my parents built two trophy homes, filling them with expensive decorations. My mother had become a part-time antique dealer, purchasing items she claimed she would resell. Instead, she hoarded them. They seemed to multiply like ferrets on fertility drugs. The garages, closets, and drawers were jammed with acquisitions, and every room was decorated to the point of clutter. Mom was no fan of feng shui.

When they finally sold one of those homes, I helped clear a two story “carriage house,” watching as local nonprofits carted away truckloads of items for two days.

Fast forward to now. Mom and Dad currently live together in a group home for the elderly in Las Vegas, Nevada. It was a tough transition, but they seem content to be with each other as they approach their 74th anniversary. That’s right, 74 years!

I’ve taken many trips to visit them, handle their affairs, and monitor their care. This included the task of tending to their empty home, something that became so impractical that my brother and I convinced them to put the house on the market.

Which brings me to those promised verses.

One afternoon, I took our 33-year-old realtor to visit my parents and get the papers signed. He’s a Filipino guy with amazing energy, a great knowledge of the market, and a flair with technology. He also dresses like a fashion plate, drives an expensive car, and participates in the World Series of Poker. He embodies much of the glitz of Vegas culture. All that said, he’s very personable, and I like him immensely.

As we sat around a small table, the finality of the decision weighed on Mom’s countenance. Dad was also nodding, but with more resignation

“It’s the end of an era,” Mom said with a sigh. “Tell me again what you plan to do with all my collections.”

We’d gone over this numerous times, a sign of her failing memory.

“We will disperse the items you earmarked for family members,” I said gently and patiently. “Then we’ll have an estate sale when the home goes into escrow. The items that remain will be moved to a consignment store.”

She nodded and sighed again. “So many things, so many memories…”

At the center of the table was a Bible my parents use for their morning devotions. I opened it and turned to Matthew 5:19-21 – words of Jesus collected in what we call the Sermon on the Mount. I noticed the realtor listening intently.

“I know it’s hard,” I said, “but you and Dad have had more years to enjoy your accomplishments than the average person. And because your faith is so important to you, listen to these words.”

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

I put down the Bible and looked at all three of them.

“When he said heaven, Jesus didn’t just mean some reality after death. He meant our quality of life on earth. Part of this is to treasure the love we have for each other. Think of what a blessing you both have, Mom and Dad. You’re still together after 74 years! You can still treasure each other in whatever time you have left.”

They were both nodding. Then they took each other’s hands and leaned in for a long kiss. In my mind’s eye, I saw their wedding picture, their young faces beaming with hope for their future.

Listen. I don’t care if you’ve never darkened the door of a church or read a single word of scripture from any religious source. Surely you see the wisdom of what Jesus said 2,000 years ago. Surely you know that material possessions and the weight of caring for them can warp our values and waste our precious time. All our stuff will end up in the landfill of time. Guaranteed.

Instead, we can revel in the unencumbered joy of the present moment. We can relish the give and take of affection with our loved ones. We can stand in awe under the Milky Way, or breathe the freshness of an ocean breeze, soaking in the free of gift of nature’s beauty. We can enjoy this Presence we often call God as it uplifts and energizes us.

When we left the house that day, the realtor turned to me.

“Watching your parents and hearing those words made it so clear,” he said. “I only have my mother and grandmother nearby, but I’m going to go visit both of them this afternoon. Thank you!”

He spontaneously reached over and gave me a hug.

Then he walked away in his expensive suit, got into his pricey Tesla, and drove off. I could see the opulent skyline of Las Vegas casinos in the distance, those kitschy monuments to over-consumption.

I smiled and nodded. We’ll see, I thought. We’ll see…

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