MY TURN: A son’s love for his father
Dear Dad,
People often say, when it is too late, that they wished they had told someone special about feelings that were bottled up in them. And so it has been with me, but no more. I wanted you to know of the many thoughts I’ve had over the years about you but never managed to express.
I wanted you to know how proud I am of the wonderful life you have lived, an inspiration that overwhelmingly shaped my own, and for that I thank you.
I wanted you to know that your passion for journalistic excellence instilled in me a respect and enthusiasm for the trade that has served me well for three decades. Even to this day, 20 years after your retirement, I hear from someone who knew you professionally and I bask in his praise for your accomplishments. At the beginning of my career, it was an honor to stand in your shadow, for I learned a lot, and for that I thank you.
I wanted you to know that how you raised your children is a model for any parent. You gave all of us, through your example, the two gifts that count the most: strong moral fibers and high ethical standards, and for that I thank you.
I want you to know how much I appreciate the freedom you gave me as I grew. Many fathers would have stifled much of the craziness I often embraced, whether it was building substandard tree houses, setting half-baked goals or flirting with dumb ideas. You gave me plenty of room to explore my neighborhood and mind, and for that I thank you.
I wanted you to know how much fun I had playing catch with you. You taught me how to kick a football, snag a fly, shoot a hoop. I probably went to more SC, UCLA and Ram games, and more Rose Bowls, than any kid who grew up in Los Angeles. Your love of sports and patience in explaining their rules created in me a sense of fair play, and for that I thank you.
I wanted you to know that your financial sacrifices in seeing that each of us received a good education are not forgotten. Each child, in his or her own way, is a success, and considering how big a family we are, that’s quite an accomplishment. Your respect for learning has enriched our lives, and for that I thank you.
When all is said and done, the measure of someone is measured by the impact he had on others. Your quiet dignity, your quiet authority, your quiet determination speak loudly. Your family, your neighbors, your church, your profession are all the better for having known you. You gave unselfishly to each and you gave a lot, and for that we all thank you.
Finally, I wanted to tell you something I was never able to say. Perhaps it was your Germanic reserve that I inherited that kept me from doing so. But no more. I wanted to tell you I love you.
John
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John Strobel, a resident of Kootenai County, wrote this letter to his father two weeks before his dad died.