Thanks To My Dad

Our personal brands are shaped by people.  Important people.  To this day, my dad’s brand shapes my brand. So on this Father’s Day weekend, a tribute is in order for “The Brand Called Dad.” It’s parents and people that create and shape our personal brand.  This brand goes far beyond genes, DNA, and family heritage–it’s shaped by the most powerful aspect of a brand: memories.  I remember so well how my dad, Henry, touched my life.  What follows is a simple thanks for the memories, from son to father.

You died too soon when I was 14.  In the twinkle of an eye you passed before you had the chance to see me move from son to man, but it was your time.  God made that decision, not me, and you are missed.  Your passing was hard.  I felt it more later than sooner.  It left a void on the one hand yet made me stronger on the other.

Thanks, dad, for marrying my mom, Mabel.  She was one, great mom and person. You picked a good one.  Thanks for my sisters and brothers: Tom, Jonny, Sue, Linda, and Edie. Thanks for always telling me you loved me.  Thanks for wrestling with me on the floor as a young boy and teaching me the power of a “Full Nelson” hold in wrestling.  Thanks for the rare spankings–yes, I feared when I got in trouble and mom yelled, “Henry, come deal with Stuie!”  That turned me quiet and good. Very fast.

Thanks for teaching me to play golf and yelling to the golf pro at Woodstock country club, “He knocked it on the green!,” the first time you handed me that four iron and told me to swing away at the first hole, a par three.  Thanks for teaching me to shoot a gun, safely, and instilling in me a love for hunting, fishing, and the great outdoors.  Thanks for telling me how you knocked out that German Shepard dog (with your bare hands) that lunged for your throat while on your paper route.  Yes, the dog lived and was OK.

Thanks for buying me a new bike after you accidentally ran over my old red one.Thanks for going to my football games in 7th grade and watching me play first-string quarterback at Westlane Junior High.  Mom always said, “He wouldn’t have missed your games for the world.”  Thanks for attending my track events, too, and telling me how proud you were.  Thanks for always telling me, “The one who throws the first punch in a fight always losses, but once that first punch is thrown at you, fight back like hell.”  Thanks for reminding me of the power of controlled, self defense when called for.  Thanks for always telling me, “Don’t you ever, ever, hit a woman.”

Thanks for buying me a mini bike and then driving me all the way up to the factory in Fort Wayne to get it fixed.  You gave the foreman suggestions for better steel on the axle.  We had lunch while they fixed it.  It came home better than new.  And thanks for ordering my Ludwig Super Classic drum set from the factory in Chicago.  When it arrived, you spent most of the day setting it up in my room.  When I got off the school bus and walked into my room–there it was.  I still play those drums.

Thanks for letting me cut the grass in that big yard we had.  Thanks for making me return the flash light I stole from the drug store. Thanks for teaching me to hold a hand saw gently so the saw, not you, does the work.  Thanks for giving me a respect for wood, steel, and things mechanical.  Thanks for taking me on that trip with Indian Guides up Ohio river in a big house boat.  I remember almost running that boat a-ground when you let me drive!  Thanks for letting me drive your cherished Buick Skylark while sitting on your lap.  I’m glad I didn’t wreck it!

And yes, Dad, I know you weren’t perfect.  You, like me, were very much human and filled with both the weaknesses and strengths of life.  Forty-one years later I still remember all this, dad.  You made an impression and I’m sure I will think of more things to add.  For all the dads reading this, remember: your kids watch and listen.  Memories matter. Give them good memories–memories and lessons that last.  Give them memories that pass to your kids, and theirs.

The brand called dad made the brand called Stu.  One, big thanks is in order: Thanks, Dad.

Henry S. Atkins, Jr., Son of Henry C. Atkins, Sr.