Memories Of My Father: Slayer Of Dragons And Bugs

I just noticed that Father’s Day is fast approaching. Happy Father’s Day, guys. I’m sure that there are many  fathers out there who have accomplished glorious deeds protecting and guiding their children, men who have slain dragons, provided employment or heaped money on their ever-grateful offspring.   

I know my dad did many things that made him worth honoring on this special June date, but the one effort on his part that means the most to me was the time he rescued me from a dicey situation while I was working at my first summer job.

I worked a night shift, alone, as a telephone information operator at the Greyhound Bus terminal in downtown Cleveland. (Yes, really.)  It was a pleasant, summer night and the windows in the room where I was working had been left open. At some point I became aware that there were many insects flying around the room, specifically the insects known as Canadian Soldiers – mayflies. I have always hated bugs. They have too many legs, and many of them fly right at you in a threatening manner intent on getting in your eyes, nose, or mouth. When I was growing up, if there was a moth or as fly in my room I would call my dad and he would dispatch the offending critter. My hero.

But here I was, sixteen years old, at work , and to tell the truth my parents and I were going through a rough spell that didn’t involve much meaningful communication– at least on my part. So, what to do? I couldn’t bare the thought of squashing the things myself, and their increasing numbers were reaching distressing levels. I thought I might just go downstairs and find someone to come to my office and kill the things, but even I was too embarrassed to do that. So, I did what I always did – I called my dad. It was three o’clock in the morning, but he was willing to get out of bed, dress, and drive downtown to come and slay the overwhelming hordes (and close the windows.) I can just imagine what my mother was saying about all this.

Many, many years have gone by, and I’ve been slaying my own dragons, and bugs, for a long time. But occasionally, I wish I could just call my dad, and know that whatever temporary goofiness was going on between us, he would calmly drop everything and come to save me. That’s what being a dad is all about. So, Happy Father’s Day to  all you dads out there.