Happy Mule Day

Tomorrow is Father's Day. My Ds and Wifey will take me to dinner. We usually go out early, but D1 has started a part time job at a Downtown restaurant, and has to work until 5, so D2, Wifey, and I plan to meet her on Brickell at a local sushi place.

Being a father is my most sacred identity. I put MORE than my all into it, from the day each of the Ds came into my arms. They've taught me the concept of unconditional love. I guess if I were religious, I'd feel that way about the Big Guy upstairs, but I grapple with that. My love for the Ds -- it's the very essence of my soul.

Several years ago, one of my roommate's secretaries was at lunch, and we were talking about children. She's a nice lady, and, past 50 now, a confirmed spinster. She started talking about peoples'obsession about their kids. I stopped her --telling her that unless she was a parent --she simply couldn't know. The love for one's kids is primal...

Anyway, now that the Ds are grown, my roles as a Dad have changed. But I'm still a mule --the guy who schleps and supports them and Wifey.

This week, I've been bust as a fleet manager. I'm responsible for the care and feeding of 4 cars, including my own. D1's car is in HER name, but somehow I'm still the guy who takes it in for service.

D2's car is going to Gainesville with her next week, so I had to get it ready. I took it for an oil change, and the Firestone (tm) tech showed me an oil leak, which was covered under warranty, so that meant a trip to the Volvo dealer yesterday, followed by 2 Metrorail rides...

Last night, D2 came home and thanked me. Wifey asked why I do all I do for her and the girls.

Simple: I'm a mule! Mules just plod along, carrying the burden...

I learned from my father. He was MY mule. I watched as he took care of everyone in his family. My sisters were grown by the time I was old enough to notice stuff like this, but I still watched him fly to California when my sister's child was born, in 1982, to try to make life easier for her (alas, her piece of crap husband at the time thwarted my father's efforts).

Still, up to the day of my father's untimely death --my Dad lived for his family. The night before he died, he asked me to give up a beach day with friends to make things easier for my mother --in case he needed to go back to the hospital. He was prescient that night --he would die the next day, in my arms, and I wonder how my mother would have fared if I weren't there to that day become the mule, and ease her burden...

So happy mule day to me, tomorrow! I'm incredibly blessed in my life. Bob Dylan, king of the hippie Jews who dabbled in Christianity for awhile, sang (in my favorite song from that era) that you "gotta serve somebody." I do, and that's my highest blessing.