So I’m in this mastermind group for creative people…mostly musician and artists. My friend Valerie from that group asked me to contribute a video as part of her Father’s Day event. You can find Valerie’s work here.

She gave me broad guidelines to work with. She gave me a preferred video length, she asked me to play some Native flute, and maybe give the inspiration that motivated my creation. You can find the video here.

I learned some things in the process of making the video. Yes, I learned more about video editing, and being a creator. I learned that my deep perfectionism is still very much alive. I learned that sometimes, good enough has to be good enough (even with the voice in my head screaming at me to fix the whole project).

But the thing that was the most profound learning for me, was about my Dad.

My Dad’s been gone for almost 20 years now.

I’m an only child, and don’t have anyone to reflect with about his life.

So these insights came as a true gift for me.

When asked, I have always described my Dad as a simple man. He worked hard to provide for us, he would occasionally have a beer when Mom decided to bake beer bread (although legend has it that he and his friends once knew EVERY place one could get a beer within a 200 mile radius of where they lived in rural Iowa).

He mowed the grass. He enjoyed getting his car washed at his favorite full service car wash…45 minutes away.

He served in the Army.

He surveyed roads.

He rode around with the local police officer, and delighted in the fact that he was on a ride along one particular Halloween when my uncle and his friends were discovered by that police officer causing mischief.

It was also reported that while in high school, he borrowed my grandfather’s car to cruise one night, and picked up some girls, who then refused to get out of the car. My Dad was insistent that he had to get the car home before his curfew, or he wouldn’t be allowed to use it again. The girls still refused to get out of the car, so my Dad calmly drove home by curfew, and parked the car in the garage with the girls still in it!

These are not the new insights I gained about my Dad from doing this project.

My Dad was not a very hands on Dad. Not very directly involved in my life.

I don’t think I ever remember him attending any of my school events. Not once concert, play, or musical I was in. Maybe there were a few Little League baseball games he attended, but I don’t know for sure.

He did help me build a telegraph when I was doing a project about Samuel Morse.

He was always willing to help with those practical things.

I don’t ever remember him telling me overtly that he loved me…at least not before Mom died, and then at my prompting him.

There weren’t hugs or physical displays of affection, although I have a photograph of my curled up on his lap, with a big bowl of popcorn, watching The Dukes of Hazzard.

Maybe I longed for some of those things, but didn’t realize it when he was alive.

He was part of the Silent Generation. Men didn’t show emotions. I can’t fault him for that I suppose.

Now, there were parts of his personality that most of us would find cringe worthy today. He was somewhat racist. It didn’t show often, but it was there. I’m also pretty sure he would not be the most LGBTQ friendly person either.

Although, he also had Midwestern politeness, so he’d never say anything racist or homophobic openly…even if he was thinking it.

What I learned during this video project, was that my Dad taught me by example. I don’t think that was ever his intention, but that was the result.

I learned the value of integrity, kindness, and loyalty. Fierce, but quiet loyalty. The kind of loyalty that I see in my oldest daughter today.

I found an unspoken example of that loyalty after he died. In his wallet, he carried pictures of the only grandchild he ever knew. She was was 8 months old when he died. He had every picture we’d ever given him of his granddaughter.

Behind those pictures?

Almost every school picture of me that exists.

Many years of pictures at least.

His wallet was thick. Not with money, but with a love he felt, though rarely expressed.

My Dad helped out his friends and neighbors when they needed it. Strangers too. Just to be helpful. Just because that’s what you do. That’s how you go through this world. Helping out when you can.

No, Dad wasn’t perfect (then again, who is?) but hindsight has given me such a rich appreciation for the man he was. An appreciation for those parts of him that I try to emulate. Parts of him that I hope get passed on to my children.

I chuckle now, thinking about what it would have been like if he’d lived long enough to meet all five of his grandchildren.

I don’t think they make a wallet big enough for all those pictures…

Father's Day 2021

Stephen F. Orsborn