“Hey Dad, What’s Up?”

That was our typical greeting. An open-ended question.  Most of the time I think he was curious, but sometimes I think he wanted to help solve a problem.  There was plenty of both over the years.

Since I am the baby of the family with a large ‘afterthought’ gap between my siblings, so many of my memories of my dad are from when he was in his 50s, 60s, and 70s.

In writing up a eulogy for his vigil earlier this month, I just kept reflecting on the various conversations and experiences over our lifetimes. As a kid, they were very active and later in life centered around conversations and answering the question ‘what’s up?’

In the Garden

I’m pretty sure my dad would keep voting in favor of daylight savings time.  I remember him being in the garden until at least 8 or 9 p.m. throughout the summer, while I jumped on the trampoline asking him to check out my tricks.

As a young kid, I asked for a red wagon for Christmas.  I’m really not sure if it was really my idea or part of his master plan. Because once I got it, I had to haul vegetables to all the neighbors in the fall.  This wasn’t your typical suburban garden, it was huge and included all the vegetables that you can find in your local produce section in the store. You disappear on the corn husks like in a scene from Field of Dreams.

In the Kitchen

He loved to cook, making it up based on what he had available.   He always cooked from scratch and nothing went to waste in the house. (He would remind us of his humble roots and be grateful for the food on the table.) We always had leftovers… which were either combined with something else for the meal the following day or in a Tupperware container in the fridge.  I could always count on my friend Ryan Fowler to come over and eat the leftovers.

On Boy Scout outings with Glasser and Doug, after long days of adventure, he would make his famous peach cobbler in a Dutch oven over the hot coals once the fire had burned down. It was an awesome way to end your night camping and one of those tastes that can’t be replicated.

Gatherings

Our house was kind of like Grand Central station. My mom always said it was ok for my friends would come over.  We would be hanging out, Austin napping on the couch after a long day’s work and my Dad would bring down some sort of crazy snack… while busting Jensen’s chops for leaking oil on the driveway.

During wrestling season, he would come to the matches with cayenne pepper popcorn to share with the Fitts family.  He also knew Derrick and I were cutting weight so he would offer us a sandwich. We would say no, but then he would cut it in fourths so it didn’t look like much. You always ended up eating the whole thing, just in smaller bites after some resistance. He also made these amazing oatmeal, peanut butter, and chocolate bars.  However, when I asked for them outside of the season, he replied ‘no way’.  That they were way too fattening and he would gain weight.

Growing up and getting old. Sharing lots of meaningful moments over a lifetime.

Skiing and Golfing

Dad retired from CDOT when I was in high school and worked in the private sector some beyond that. I remember the day I called and he told me that work was getting in the way of his skiing and golfing. 

He would call me at about 1:30 in the afternoon on a Tuesday or Wednesday throughout the winter.   Hey, what’s up? He would ask.  I’d reply with my annoyed (but not really annoyed) response of that of course I was working. He’d then tell me about the ski day at Loveland Basin.   The snow conditions, how many runs he did, and which runs were the best. He loved his over 70-years-od, weekday-only ski pass.   No one would be on the slopes.  He would show up at 10:00 a.m. and be done by 1:00 p.m.  Sometimes he could get 9 holes of golf in on the same day.

Embracing Technology

In the early 2000s, he became pretty computer savvy. I think his favorite thing about the internet was watching interactive weather maps across the world.  He would compare how much rain he got in his rain gauge at the house with the rest of the city in real-time.  He would always see how much snow the ski areas got on snowy days. Sometimes when I called, I would get the entire 5-day forecast (or a question about how to get the printer working again, or get digital camera photos to download, or get rid of a pop-up browser that wouldn’t go away).

However, he never really embraced the cell phone.   He had one briefly, but it was used for outbound calls only.  He would call you, leave a message, and then turn his phone off.  I really don’t think he liked the idea of being that connected when he rather be enjoying the outdoors. There is probably a lesson for all of us here these days.

Caring

One day I called home when was in college and when he asked, ‘what’s up?’ I responded with, ‘The usual’.  He then responded with ‘Ohh no what happened?’ The background is that I had a history of freak accidents (bonfire burns, car accidents, wounds needing stitches, being in a truck going off a cliff coming out of a car wash).  He used to tell me that I had 9 lives and would sometimes count and recap the big accidents. I think he had them listed in a notebook.

But that’s the funny thing about dad. He would really get on you for the little things… like if you weren’t paying attention, or if you were half-assing something.   But he was calm under pressure and when you were freaking out about the big things. At the end of the day, he was caring and supportive. Maybe it was after all of Steve’s broken bones or Karen’s crazy accidents.   They broke him in.  I had it pretty easy.

He also sort of had a sixth sense about trouble.   Like the time he didn’t like the idea of my friends and I going up to Winter Park during spring break one year. The trip ended with us in a 22-car pileup on I-70.  When you were scared or needed help, that is when his compassionate side came out.  He stayed calm, logical, and matter-of-fact. You knew who you had to call when you were in trouble.

Authentic

My dad was known for being direct. I honestly don’t really recall any times that he waffled on opinions, or left things in doubt.  To this day I find one of my core values is authenticity and I think that comes from my dad.  He always showed up authentically.  I honestly don’t think he knew how to do it any other way.

Same Side of the Table

My birds and the bees discussion occurred on a chair lift at Loveland.  I had nowhere to go, just us, one-on-one.  However, in a couple of minutes, we were going to be off the lift and skiing down the mountain, only to pick up a totally different conversation on the next chair.   It was a genius approach. Thinking back, there were a lot of side-by-side conversations.  Like hiking through the wilderness with 40-50 lbs backpacks or taking long drives and road trips.  That was his approach when trying to connect with others.

Active and Engaged

My mom and dad were very active in our lives.  For me, it was Panther football and baseball with Jamie, Scouts with Glasser and Doug, wrestling matches, trips up to CSU, or just hanging out at the house with the crew.   Katie and I played in an adult ice hockey league and our games were late on Friday and Saturday nights.  They would still drive up from Littleton to watch our games, but mostly to watch the girls when they came around.  Our games really didn’t have that much action, but it was something to do and they had fun (except for the time my dad got hit in the face with an errant puck and lost a tooth). My 30-50-year-old teammates got a kick out of my parent’s still coming to rec. sports.

Vulnerable

As he battled Parkinson’s, he let his vulnerability show. He had to let the skiing, golfing, gardening, and driving go.  He had to relinquish balancing the checkbook and scheduling car maintenance.  He didn’t resist.  He was logical.  He did it with grace.

He still wanted to know what was up but had fewer stories about what he was able to do. The shared experiences were all told ton the past tense, but the long-term memories will not be forgotten.

Curiosity and Wonder

This past year or so, you could hear him wondering aloud about things and you would try and decipher them. You got a glimpse into his curious mind and longing for learning.

Are you thinking about the roads you designed?
Are you thinking about a family trip to Mississippi or Illinois?
Are you thinking about what to plant?
Are you making up a recipe for the veggies growing in the garden?
Are you thinking about baking a pie?

Thanks to my friend Jensen for taking the photo that we really think captures dad’s curiosity and wonder

Strength and Preparation

As we said goodbye to him last week, I don’t think that I will ever forget my mom telling him that it was ok to go. That he helped make her so strong and that she will be just fine with us by her side. She’s right, she is so strong and one tough cookie.

One of the last smiles that I got out of my dad was while we were watching a bronco game this season. I asked if he remembered mom yelling loudly at the Bronco games when they had season tickets.  He looked at me with a grin and gave an affirming nod.   One of his favorite stories to tell was how my mom would really give John Elway the business.

Keeping His Spirit with Me

So now as I go on moonlit walks around the neighborhood or hikes in the Rocky Mountains, I’ll probably look up to the sky and as ask, Hey dad, what’s up? It will give me a chance to think about all the good times we had. It will give me a chance to reflect if I am being the son he would want me.

Am I showing up authentically?
Am I helping take care of my mom and staying connected with my family?
Am I living up to my promise to be an engaged and supportive husband and father?
Am I being a good friend?

Maybe I’ll just listen to his advice on how to help solve my problems. He was really good at it!

I love you, dad, and we miss you.

So you wet the bed… now what?

Well, you just clean up and move on! Our daughter Maggie taught us this life lesson a couple of years when she about was 3-years-old. It may seem like an obvious insight. However, for someone that would let mistakes or failures bother them for a really long time, this has been a gamechanger for me as a parent and in my everyday mindset.

In reflecting back on how fatherhood has shaped how I try and show up these days, I think handling bedwetting may be one of the best.

Don’t let it fester

Is there a better word to describe it? “Fester”. What a word. Anyway, just like pee on a bed, letting your mistakes fester in your mind can be just as stinky. Failures can put me into a funk, (another great word) and I can let them bother me for hours, days, and weeks. I’m learning that the faster that I process them mentally and move on, the better.

Bouncing back quickly and showing resiliency comes naturally for some, while others of us really have to work on it. It is an incredible skill to put in your toolset and there sure are a lot of opportunities to work on it.

No room for blame or shame

The first time Maggie wet the bed, she was kind of freaked out and we weren’t exactly ready for it either (she was in our bed). It took some time to get her to relax and was she was really upset. However, when she did it again, it really wasn’t a big deal. That’s because we didn’t make it a big deal. Instead, we just quickly determined what kind of wipe down she needed based on the volume and magnitude and changed her pajamas. We quickly changed out the sheets and everyone got back to bed. We had the laundry going the next morning.

It’s the middle of the night, everyone is tired, and it can be frustrating. But it’s also a time to ensure that shaming as a parenting technique doesn’t surface. In her book Daring Greatly, Brene Brown writes. “I can say without hesitation that childhood experiences of shame change who we are, how we think about ourselves, and our sense of self-worth.” Just because a kid wets the bed doesn’t mean they are a bad kid. Just like you aren’t a bad person either for whatever accident or mistake that happened.

It Happens! So Own it

We can all be so hard on ourselves after making a mistake. What if we just stopped the snowballing thoughts swirling in our head and said out loud, “Yep, I wet the bed!”? This honest awareness and recognition will help us to move on quickly while giving ourselves some grace in the process. Whether it is an accident, a lapse of judgment, or failure, it’s just part of our growth.

In addition, it may even result in something to celebrate as we can learn new processes (like a routine before going to bed) or new warning signs (like noticeable uncomfortableness).

Prepare for the next time, because there will be a next time

Kids have been wetting the bed all over the world for a long time. The good news is that there are solutions for when does happen. We have waterproof covers underneath the sheets on their beds (including ours) to protect the mattresses. When it does, we can pull off the bedding and get it in the laundry in one swoop to be washed by the morning. We also ensure that we go potty before bed. We put in precautions and literal safety blankets because it is bound to happen again.

Just like so many of our other endeavors in life, we know there will be mistakes. So let’s use our experience and wisdom to put things in place so when we make mistakes (which is going to happen) so that we can recover quickly and get on with where we want to go in life.

Someone else may have wet the bed… all the above applies

There is one more insight to take away from this blog. That our friends, family, and co-workers are going to wet the bed. (figuratively this time… but you never know). But when they do, think about how we can help them get cleaned up and back on track. They already feel embarrassed and ashamed so there is no need to pile on. It’s an opportunity to provide perspective and support.

The bed is wet. It happened. There is no going back in time to prevent this particular accident from happening. So let’s not waste any more energy on the past.

The irony is that when Maggie was 3-years-old, she used to carry around the book ‘Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff… And It’s All Small Stuff’, by Richard Carlson. If she only knew how enlightened she was and the lessons she was teaching her parents.

Nothing like a made bed (definitely better than a wet one)