Thank you Dad

March 14 would have been my father's 86th birthday. He died in 1990, but I know he'd be very unhappy with the way life in this country, one that he fought for in WW2 has turned. Although my father was not the rebel that I am(I think I got that from his sister, my Aunt Helen), his views were still much more liberal than conservative and he was the first one that I ever heard use the phrase, "If there was a pig on the republican ballots, those idiots would vote for it!" So, I guess I'd just like to thank my dad for some of my attributes:
First, my red hair--it fits my personality
Second, my love of reading; although both of my parents read and my mother probably read a bit more to me when I was a child, my father was the one who introduced me to the magical world of newspapers. Dad worked in Chicago and took the train. In those days there were 4 Chicago papers--the Trib, Sun-times, Daily News and Chicago Today. Two were morning papers and the other two were afternoon. We never read the Tribune, dad called it the newspaper for the rich and middle class people who read it were duped into believing they were just like the upper class. He got me interested in the papers by way of the comics-HEY I was only 7 or 8! As I got older, he'd mention different articles that I might like to read, he was sneaky!
Third, my love of knowledge; yes, if you are reading articles by the time you're 10, you're also being told that knowledge is important. My father and I would debate topics, debate football, debate why I should be able to stay up later(I usually lost that one) and we'd do it without yelling(that started in my teen years...hormones and independence ya know). He wanted me to be sure I knew what I was speaking about, not just talking about something because my friends liked it.
Fourth, my passion for social justice; my mother always said my father was always bringing home strays--dogs, cats, people and he did, specially the people in later years, but his heart was in the right place. I remember one time when I was still in elementary school and he had his secretary and her husband to our house for dinner. Her name was Millie and she was New Orleans and she was....black! In a middle/blue class neighborhood in the suburbs!!! Talk about throwing the neighborhood for a quake, you'd have thought Dad had invited MLK, Jr., Malcom X and Jesse Jackson to move in with us! Now, my dad thought those men were evil, it was the 60's and civil rights were just awakening, but he was so angry that our neighbors would be so....stupid(read racist in this day and age) about friends of his! My father showed me, whether he knew it or not, how blind racism can be--he would give his shirt to someone he knew, no matter what race/creed/religion, but to ones he didn't, he thought the worst. The indirect definition of white privilege.
He gave me my love of football, taught me how to dance(although he never got me to understand that I was the girl, I wasn't supposed to lead), my humor and my sarcasm.
He had been a mid-level manager for all of my life and really didn't have much good for unions, but when I started getting involved with mine, he said it was good that I was standing up for other people and now, in his late 50's, understood how important unions could be. After working over 30 years for one company, they terminated him before he turned 60 and he never really recovered from that in some ways. At least he had a pension that started when he was fired.
In 1986 I became a correctional officer, after working for 6 years in the clerical department of the prison. After about 6 months, he told me that it had changed me, made me a bit more hard hearted, but he said, "That's good Kim, you were too softhearted, like me." No, dad I'm very proud to be as soft hearted as you. I love you and I miss you and may you find peace in the your world.