Thursday, June 26, 2008
Wayne, Kennedy and The Duke (Update 3)
My father can be defined by a few simple things. He has a deep yet complicated love for his family. His love for all of us runs deep, and though it often appeared otherwise, it has always been unconditional. He is hopelessly and sweetly sentimental. His memory for family lore is legendary, both in how much he remembers and how much he just flat out makes up!
There were three other passions that my father has always held. As far back as I could remember his identity and imagination were tightly wrapped up in these very personal and passionate diversions.
He loved the old west. Stories of the west and the settling of the western United States and the colorful personalities at the center of the stories fascinated and energized him. He watched westerns on television and on the big screen. He loved Gary Cooper, Gene Autry and John Wayne and characters they portrayed. The first time he visited me in southern California, he made me take him to the statue of John Wayne in the center of our airport named in his honor.
He not only watched westerns, but he read historical accounts and novels based in the old west. But probably most surprising to many who even knew him well was that he also wrote about the old west. I can remember many times in my life where one of his distinctive yellow legal pads was filled with a cowboy tale about two friends and their adventure across the old west.
Shortly and often after moving to Oklahoma City my dad would speak enthusiastically about being so close to the historic Chisholm Trail. I am ashamed to say that I still do not know why it was important or historic. I’m sure he told me, but it never registered. I will now make it my mission to understand its role in the settling of this part of the country.
His second passion was American government; specifically politics. Though a strong and committed Democrat, my dad understood and explained history in a non-partisan, unbiased way. He never affixed blame to historical leaders or administrations when explaining it to me. He was content and in passionate favor of allowing me to draw my own conclusions from what I learned. Make no mistake though he was a true, blue fairly liberal Democrat. As he aged his heels dug deeper and deeper.
Although unbending and committed in his beliefs, he was never blinded beyond the point of being able to recognize and marvel at the beauty of our system. The American system of government and elections specifically is something that intrigued and amazed him more than it moved him. He was more than a voter or participant. He was a fan and observer – passionately in love with the American way.
But aside from his family, the love of my dad’s life has always been baseball. He is a knowledgeable and brilliant baseball fan and historian. His understanding of the game and its technical quirks and beauty is quite simply unmatched by anyone I have ever known. I can’t say that word emphatically enough – ANYONE. I am certain that his ability to maneuver and think through strategy is greater than many current major league managers.
His team was without question the Dodgers. From Brooklyn to Los Angeles he followed his Dodgers from April to October every year, content with falling just short seemingly year after year. The only book I ever saw him read multiple times was Roger Kahn’s, “Boys of Summer”, chronicling the 1955 Dodgers who finally broke through and won a world series after years of losing to the cross-town Yankees. I think he felt a kinship with this team. They were guys he wanted to be like and wanted to be with. Duke Snyder, Jackie Robinson, Pee Wee Reese, Roy Campinella; the original boys of summer. They were all-American and a classic American underdog. My father saw his identity in them and claimed them as his own.
There were three other passions that my father has always held. As far back as I could remember his identity and imagination were tightly wrapped up in these very personal and passionate diversions.
He loved the old west. Stories of the west and the settling of the western United States and the colorful personalities at the center of the stories fascinated and energized him. He watched westerns on television and on the big screen. He loved Gary Cooper, Gene Autry and John Wayne and characters they portrayed. The first time he visited me in southern California, he made me take him to the statue of John Wayne in the center of our airport named in his honor.
He not only watched westerns, but he read historical accounts and novels based in the old west. But probably most surprising to many who even knew him well was that he also wrote about the old west. I can remember many times in my life where one of his distinctive yellow legal pads was filled with a cowboy tale about two friends and their adventure across the old west.
Shortly and often after moving to Oklahoma City my dad would speak enthusiastically about being so close to the historic Chisholm Trail. I am ashamed to say that I still do not know why it was important or historic. I’m sure he told me, but it never registered. I will now make it my mission to understand its role in the settling of this part of the country.
His second passion was American government; specifically politics. Though a strong and committed Democrat, my dad understood and explained history in a non-partisan, unbiased way. He never affixed blame to historical leaders or administrations when explaining it to me. He was content and in passionate favor of allowing me to draw my own conclusions from what I learned. Make no mistake though he was a true, blue fairly liberal Democrat. As he aged his heels dug deeper and deeper.
Although unbending and committed in his beliefs, he was never blinded beyond the point of being able to recognize and marvel at the beauty of our system. The American system of government and elections specifically is something that intrigued and amazed him more than it moved him. He was more than a voter or participant. He was a fan and observer – passionately in love with the American way.
But aside from his family, the love of my dad’s life has always been baseball. He is a knowledgeable and brilliant baseball fan and historian. His understanding of the game and its technical quirks and beauty is quite simply unmatched by anyone I have ever known. I can’t say that word emphatically enough – ANYONE. I am certain that his ability to maneuver and think through strategy is greater than many current major league managers.
His team was without question the Dodgers. From Brooklyn to Los Angeles he followed his Dodgers from April to October every year, content with falling just short seemingly year after year. The only book I ever saw him read multiple times was Roger Kahn’s, “Boys of Summer”, chronicling the 1955 Dodgers who finally broke through and won a world series after years of losing to the cross-town Yankees. I think he felt a kinship with this team. They were guys he wanted to be like and wanted to be with. Duke Snyder, Jackie Robinson, Pee Wee Reese, Roy Campinella; the original boys of summer. They were all-American and a classic American underdog. My father saw his identity in them and claimed them as his own.
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