Happy Father's Day
I was doubly saddened that Tim Russert died Father's Day weekend. It's hard enough to lose someone, let alone near a particular holiday. And of course, after I married my third husband, Anthony Bourdain, I had always intended the very brilliant Tim Russert to be husband #4. He will be missed by so many, particularly today--not just Father' Day, but . . . Sunday . . . and Meet the Press, where he always struck me as well-prepared and never "in your face." The following is a passage from Tim Russert's book, Big Russ & Me (#1 on Amazon today).
I always go to [my father's home] for Thanksgiving, and in 2004, a few months after the book came out, we were loading up the car to drive to the airport when Big Russ came over to me to say goodbye. For as long as I can remember, Dad and I had always parted with a handshake and a half hug. But this time he gave me a huge bear hug and he said softly, "I love you" – something I had never heard him say before. I was fifty four years old, and all I could think was, Boy, I wish I had written this book thirty years earlier.
It seems that when I meet men of a certain (ahem) age, most of them never got the benefit of hearing a lot of "I Love Yous" from their dads. I consider myself lucky that I always did.
My favorite story about my dad, or one of them anyway . . . was about my 13th birthday. My father used to travel for months at a time to places I had never heard of: Vietnam, Nigeria, Iraq, Pakistan, Lebanon. Phone calls were spotty back then. And we were conscious of it costing like . . . tens of dollars per minute, so all I and my sisters got to do was line up, shout "I MISS YOU!" over this fuzzy international phone line, and pass the phone to the next sister. This was in the era of Telexes (which my kids don't even know what they are), which we would send to his hotels sometimes. We got postcards from places very far away with exotic stamps, and I still have all of them, I think. And always, no matter how far away he was, he found a way to get home for each of our birthdays. Even if it meant flying for three days straight with layovers.
My thirteenth birthday, my dad couldn't work it out--he would be flying for 48 hours across time zones from Pakistan, but there would STILL be no way to get home for my birthday. He said he'd make it up to me, but I was crushed. CRUSHED! When he finally got home, two days AFTER my birthday, he brought a beautiful bracelet (which I still have). I thought what I would forever remember about my 13th birthday was that my father missed it.
I was wrong.
Now that I am an adult, and realize how exhausted he must have been, and realize now all the sacrifices my MOM made to make up for his traveling, and how tired and stressed they both probably were, what I remember most was that he tried so hard. Had there been a way, a flight, a boat--you name it--to be there, he would have. That he traveled without sleep, with jet lag, to lonely places far from his girls, eating strange food and sleeping in sometimes less-than-safe places, sometimes even war zones. And that he tried to move heaven and earth to be there for our special days. And in a way, his missing it despite trying his hardest is more memorable. Because I have to be honest, I don't remember any of my other birthdays. I really don't. But that one I do. Because I knew I was loved enough for someone to try to do that.
The father characters in my books are a lot like my dad. He inspires most of them--Frank O'Neil, and Skye McNalley's dad, Billy Quinn's dad. Not a businessman or "ordinary" dad among them, not mushy or particularly easy to get along with, but fiercely loyal. The kind of guy who would fly across every international time zone to try to be there for your birthday.
HAPPY FATHER"S DAY to all the dads out there. And to mine.
So tell me . . . how are you spending the day? And what are the dads like in your works in progress?
Labels: Father's Day
posted by Erica Orloff at 7:06 AM
10 Comments:
I think most of the men in my books have my father's sense of humor. Although sick most of the time (which I now believe was undiagnosed celiacs) he always kept his sense of humor. He died when I was 24.
My father could find "funny" everywhere.
My kids' father passed away 3 1/2 years ago -- so Father's Day in our family consists of making some of his favorite foods and the kids being understandably sad, and even annoyed.
The father in my book is patterned after my ex -- a loving, often misguided father -- who was a terrible husband -- but not a bad man.
And it's good for me to remember all of that -- because I spend a lot of my time helping my kids recall his life -- instead of just the fact that he's gone.
It's also the premise of my WIP.
I'm working today but this evening we are having a cookout at my house. And I'd love to hang with Anthony Bourdain so when y'all get hitched be sure to send me an invite to the shindig.
My dad was a hard worker, and a private man. He made me laugh, loved Barney on the Andy Griffin show, and loved Mama's Family.
I reflect the heart of him in at least one character in each of my stories. Your dad sounds like a winner too. Thanks for sharing!
My dad called out of the blue to tell me how proud he was of me. Those were the words I had wanted to hear throughout my childhood, but I had to wait until I was in my 40's to hear them. And this was before he knew he was dying.
The first time he said I love you was the night before his triple bypass and he was sure he was going to die. He lived 20+ years after that.
Our relationship was very complicated. I think this complexity makes it into my WIPs. People have both good and bad traits, make good and bad decisions. It's hard, though, to take a character that is doing good or doing bad and write in some of the opposite stuff.
Are our characters idealized?
Aimless:
That's a lovely tribute.
E
Hi Amy:
I think it's a pretty special mom who is able to do that about her ex.
E
Travis:
Consider yourself a recipient of an engraved invite. Be forewarned . . . my best friend in the whole wide world only gives Anthony and I a year together before we kill each other. But I am sure it will be a spectacular year.
E
Ladonna:
LOL! that's the Southern man in him. Thanks for sharing that.
E
Hi Sarah:
I actually think those complicated traits makes for great fiction. Difficult reality . . . but great fiction. And . . . I think we learn a lot along the way from those dfficult people too.
E
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