NOT Humble in Fatherhood

So the Ds and Jonathan and Wifey and I drove to the Palm, and had an exquisite dinner. Wifey and D2 shared a lobster, D1, the dietitian had salmon, and Jonathan and I each tore through some large NY Strips. We toasted FD, and the Ds, and wished Jonathan a bon voyage to the Big Apple. He gave Wifey and I a classy parting gift -- Apple TV, which Wifey has long wanted. On the way home to Brickell, D1 chastised Wifey a bit -- for sort of roping me into a visit to MJH today, a day that ought to be all mine. So we may skip the week -- the sad truth is my father in law wouldn't really know if he's visited today or next week. We'll decide later. I listened to Dan Fogelberg's "Leader in the Band," a song that makes men of a certain age always reflect on their fathers, to get in the mood. And then I decided something else: I'm self deprecating about most of my life. I downplay my accomplishments in business. I always elevate my friends' accomplishments and intelligence above my own. When I got the most expensive car I ever did, a BMW 740 IL (IL soot for It longer), I immediatley told everyone it was no Bentley... But the one thing I AM most proud about is how I am as a father. I will shout from the rooftops: there is no greater Dad in the world than I am. I adore my Ds, and have raised them with all the love in my heart, and wisdom in my head. I have imbued in them self respect, love, and kindness. Neither daughter is perfect, but they're closer to that ideal than any other people I know. And I take a lot of the credit for that. I had an awesome teacher, of course. My father came from a cold, unloving home, but one in which he was always cared for. He told me the few times he sought his father's life advice, he was answered by a smack to the head with the admonition "Don't be stupid." My father vowed to be the opposite with his kids, and he was. He raised my sisters and me with complete love, guidance, and understanding. I appreciated that each and every day of his life. Of course, he also worried himself probably to an early death about us. When my sister had her son in California, and it was clear her then husband was not going to be any sort of provider, I would come home from late nights out to see my stricken Dad pacing in the small Florida room of his condo, worried about his daughter and her baby boy. When I promised to be home at midnight, and came in 1230 or so, he had that same pained look -- he had already assumed I was lying next to a highway somewhere. I try to keep those demons at bay, and it's hard. But overall, well, I AM the best father. My Ds know it and appreciate it. Hopefully they'll choose men who will likewise take care of their families. Years ago, I read Sidney Poitier's autobiography, "The Measure of a Man." It chronicled his amazing life, from being born to poor Bahamians in Miami, to his childhood, to racism, to finally the top of Hollywood. And yet his message was simple: the measure of a man is how he takes care of his family. I measure up the highest, if I don't say so myself. Happy Father's Day to me, and, of course, to the man I think about and miss each day.