06/15/2025
Father's Day is bittersweet for me, as my dad is no longer among the living. There was a lot of emotional sparring as I, 'adulted', but he always had his eyes on me. His pioneering spirit, love of nature, wanderlust, and curious persona are so ingrained in me.
He existed in an era of mass awakening in the dirty South - Jim Crow, segregation, redlining, etc.
His parents, a US letter carrier and laundress at cleaning plants provided stability, a village in the hood, and mantras affirming his capacity to (and MUST) thrive. A product of segregated public schools. He had educators who expected every student to work to the best of their ability. My dad was a polyglot - German, French, and Spanish; matriculated, after a vigorous legal battle, to UT-Austin when blacks weren't readily allowed admission; a Fulbright scholar to Bonn, Germany studying periodontal surgery; a vocal civil rights advocate; and, quintessential joie de vivre that exhausted my mom.
He took pleasure in being a ranch hand at the Stevenson ranch (Buffalo Soldier descendant), teaching swimming at Finegan Park, hunting, fishing, and teaching me about entomology (insects) and etiquette, in that order. "You never know when you'll dine at the UN," he'd say.
And through those markers, he died before his 65th earthstrong day. While I've surpassed his time on earth, there are so many questions I'd like to ask him. This current time eerily feels like the conversations I overheard my elders speak about at the dinner table - safety, security, next actions, and plans going forward.
I honor my dad and pray that he, and his elders, continue to keep their hands on our shoulders to rise, thrive, and protect each other and the planet. If you're lucky to have your father (patriarch/parents) still about you, love them. Hug them. Cajole and laugh with them. Ask them. Help them. Because with you, it is their first life, too. Bless.