Words so true, @boomboom. I lost my father in 1983. He had incredibly high lipids (cholesterol, triglycerides, etc.) due to a genetic fault that I inherited from him. Unfortunately, they hadn't discovered statins, like Lipitor (which I take in large doses and why I'm still here) and he had numerous heart attacks. A university professor and department chair, he had excellent health insurance and took every experimental drug available. They didn't work. He received one of the early by-pass surgeries from Dr. Denton Cooley (a famous heart surgeon at the time who did some of the early heart transplants). Dad had a tremendous will to live. A trip to the Mayo Clinic, where they couldn't believe his lipid numbers, doing all the tests twice, led to them telling him not to make any long range plans. He beat their estimate by more than 20 years. Dad hoped to qualify for a transplant, but Dr. Cooley told him that he was too old, and too damaged for it to work. This was when he was in the hospital, yet again, and in really bad shape. Three days later he was gone. I was standing outside the door to his room as they worked on him. It was a tough moment. Every extra year he managed was a blessing. I still miss my father and think about him often. He's who is in my thoughts on Father's Day. My grown children make a fuss over me, my daughter in person, still living in Austin, and my son, out of town, on the phone. They never knew their grandfather and I can't really explain what they missed. Perhaps one day they'll understand.
eloquently said, breh. i don't really know my dad, he's distant with his kids and he's mean and harsh. what i know about him, i was told by mum or older cousins. anyway, hope i could be a good dad when i grow up.
Made me teary eyed. Of course I couldn't help of think of my own loved ones as I read it. @Deckard should think about writing down some of his stories for his family (if he hasn't already). Seriously, they're a treat to read.
Great story deckard and another reminder for those of us who still have fathers to appreciate them while they are still here.
Happy late Father's Day, everyone! I had lunch with my dad on Saturday and dinner with my father in law Sunday. Saturday night and Sunday afternoon were spent in the pool and watching the Astros get swept by the Reds. Got a sweet Astros coffee mug from one kid, a Rockets basketball from the other and a new basketball goal for the pool from my wife (among other things, if you catch my drift....). Besides the Astros, it was a great weekend! I didn't even have to grill! But I do have to put this goal together at some point...
Unfortunately with new transcending information, statins are a nuance for most. Controlling insulin via diet and cortisol via emotional response is the true path to metabolic health and preventing heart disease.
I assume you meant a nuisance. Not for me. With my cholesterol over 600 and my triglycerides at 1200 without meds, as I said in my post, I wouldn’t be here today without statins. I have my liver function, blood sugar, and several other things checked twice a year, and limit myself to a pint of Harp when I play trivia with the guys once a week. I get a good “emotional response” from being alive at my age.
Happy Father’s Day, dads. It was certainly the best thing I ever did. Enjoy your coffee mugs, Home Depot gift cards and t-shirts you can only wear once a year.
My Dad’s father (my grandfather) was absent. He was in prison a ton, and when he wasn’t he was doing his best to get back in basically. He had virtually nothing to do with my Dad and I never met him. He was killed in the aftermath of a bank robbery when I was 3. My Dad decided at about 14 years old that what he wanted to be more than anything was the Dad that he never had. He has been that and more. He rescued me, my siblings, my kids and my nieces and nephews from a cycle of fatherlessness. He never missed anything I did growing up. Then he was the very same way for his grandkids…and he still travels long distances to watch my older son coach hoops. For all of that, he is my hero. That part reminds me of him when you say you hope to be a good dad one day. You know very well I imagine the importance. I’ll spend today with my kids and my Dad. He’s 86 now, and I recognize we likely don’t have a ton of Father’s Days left.
Your dad sounds like a great man. His commitment is paying back - 86 beats the odds. It’s something my wife and I talk about and what I try to impart on young parents: Even if your parents sucked, at least you have the blueprint on what not to do.
Give your ol' man a hug for me. Mine passed 10 days from now 10 years ago, you can't get those moments back.
Great story Max and it sounds like you’ve lived much more like your dad than your granddad. My own dad was also very different from him father who died when he was young and he was raised by an aunt. My dad was very different from the rest of his family. His family was poor and I didn’t know them well at all. My dad had an iron will and worked his way out of poverty to earn a scholarship to Rice. I’m very different from my dad and as a kid I didn’t understand him and like many kids often had a strained relationship with him. As an adult I’ve come to understand and appreciate what he went through and our relationship is much stronger now than when I was a kid. On this day also want to mention some men who had a profound influence on my life who I’ve lost recently. Two years ago I lost my longtime Sensei but a couple of months ago a childhood friend’s passed away at 86. He had fought in Vietnam and was grievously wounded. After the war he did things like row across the Atlantic alone. He later settled down to help run a school for troubled youth. As a teenager I and his sons would do some dumb teenage things and this man could set me right with just a glance. As such Major Cadwalader helped to shape who I am along with my own family. I was very fortunate to let him know that when I saw him recently before he passed away.
Happy Father's Day. May we all continue to strive to be the best fathers possible, and continue to hope that our kids will see us the way we want to be seen, someday.
