That's My Dad

Greetings.

Late last night I got the word that my Dad passed away after battling many illnesses of late.

Weeks prior to this news, my Dad confided in me his misery battling these physical ailments and he instructed me "don't be sad when it's my time to go". It's not easy honoring that wish.

It feels too much like something is missing. Mostly there's a feeling of emptiness, but it's mixed with a feeling of relief for him as he no longer has to endure the discomfort and pain he has been through recently, and in actuality most of his life as he battled heart disease since he was in his 30's.

He told me stories of going to work on the assembly line at Fisher Body in Detroit (where I grew up) having to hold on to something as the line passed and it gave him vertigo. He told me about having to pull his car over on the way home from work when he couldn't control his heart rate and felt too dis-oriented to drive.

He would tell me of his desire to start his own auto mechanic shop(he went to trade school to learn the auto mechanic trade), but he didn't want to lose the medical benefits the United Auto Workers union had procured for the blue-collar workers in the auto industry. I remember him correcting me when I said "What a great company you work for that gives you these benefits." He quickly corrected that statement "NO! It's the UNION who got us these benefits. That factory doesn't give a FUCK if we have them or not!" He was a proud Union member. As a studied the history of the labor movement, I found out how right my Dad was about the importance of the labor movement and how Unions have protected the civil rights of the working class. He would come home and repair car problems for his friends. Doing brake jobs and anything else car related. As a young boy, I would venture out to the garage and hear the ball busting amongst my Dad and his friends, and the cursing related to doing mechanical work. If you have ever seen the movie "Gran Torino" and if you recall the barber shop scene, then you can understand life in my Dad's garage. The other aspect of my Dad's garage was excessive generosity. He never charged a lot of money to help people and rarely turned people away when they needed help.

My Dad loved westerns. He loved action movies. I was weened on John Wayne, Charles Bronson, Lee Van Cleef and the likes of them all. We'd sit on Sunday afternoons and watch movies like "The Missouri Breaks", "True Grit". We went to the theater to see "Unforgiven" and "Pale Rider" .

Me and my dad would talk often about out favorite lines in some of those movies. From "The Missouri Breaks" we liked the scene where Jack Nicholson was rudely awakened only to be told "Sorry to wake you, but your throats just been cut."

We also liked the line from "Unforgiven" where Clint Eastwood informs the rookie gunslinger "We've all got it coming, kid."

So I woke up this morning feeling the loss. But I have slowly been realizing that my Dad is still here, and will always be here.

I looked in the mirror this morning to brush my teeth, and noted the nose passed from him to me. "That's my dad", I thought.

I lost a slipper coming up the stairs to my bedroom this morning and muttered an "awwww FUCK!" That's my Dad.

I got a call this morning from a co-worker who needed help (it's my day off and he's on call) and I went to give him a hand. That's my Dad.

I love to watch "Pulp Fiction" and all kinds of movies no matter the content. That's my Dad.

When I eat corned beef hash. That's my Dad.

I have continuously questioned the words of the preachers and the content of the Bible and have sought to carve my own path of spirituality. That's my Dad.

I am a skilled tradesman and proud Union member. That's my Dad.

These same sort of virtues I have passed to my own children. I look at them and see me and my Dad in them as well. The generosity, the inquisitiveness, the love of movies, the love of music (forgot to mention the constant strumming of the 6 string my Dad would do, it was a background music to the home I grew up in.)

One day I went to my son's school and I heard my son tell one of his friends (referring to me)

"That's my Dad." Made me feel like my son was proud of me.

I am proud of you, Dad. You left behind a lot of goodness within me.

And when the world hears me curse a bit, question authority, generously give of my time, be a friend to others, break the balls of my friends, get lost in music, work hard, be chronically early to my appointments, be dependable, be quietly by myself, and above all else, when you see me loving the life I have, I am quietly telling you

"That's my Dad"


Rest Peacefully Tusco "Bill" Asher March 19, 2011