Thanks Dad - High Five

November 24, 2010, By Jim Higley 1 comment

Jim Higley

My dad was funny. That’s how most people would describe him. He was quick on his feet. A teaser. And, he would always leave the room smiling. At the surprise 60th birthday party my brothers and I held for him, with about 100 of his closest friends, he turned the table on us all and—with microphone in hand—went around the room and shared hysterical, embarrassing, and sometimes sentimental stories about everyone in attendance. Johnny Carson couldn’t have put on a better show.

He enjoyed a good laugh.

There was nothing in life my dad enjoyed more, however, than being father to his five sons. Nothing. “Five” was his lucky number. If he had to place a bet on anything, he would integrate that number because, to him, it was what his life was all about. His five boys.

And, I was lucky to be son number five. His baby.

The age difference between my oldest two brothers, identical twins, and me is nearly nine years. As adults, we’ve come to understand how unique each of our relationships with this man was over the course of our own respective childhoods.

My oldest two brothers remember a youthfully spontaneous dad. Their memory bank is filled with a dad who would attempt crazy stunts water-skiing (even though he couldn’t swim), a dad who would blow up garbage cans with M-80s over the Fourth of July, or crash their go-cart into a tree.

The next two brothers—the brothers of the family’s Middle-Ages—have unending memories of a father who somehow managed to be at every sporting event, anywhere at any time. Always in a suit, you’d find him proudly on the sidelines through the rotating seasons of cross country, golf, basketball and track. He was the perfect sports dad. He’d take meticulous stats for his boys and gladly share them in follow-up chats. But there was never pressure. Just joy in the experience.

For me, I knew the dad who—after the tragic death of my mother when I was fourteen—found himself a single father. I had the dad who selflessly played the mom and dad roles in our family because it was what he needed to do. I knew the dad who found his nurturing role—becoming a master chef, laundress and family therapist—a role he played masterfully through the rest of his life.

While my brothers and I share so many similar experiences with our father—learning first hand from him the meaning of charity, commitment, integrity, loyalty and the value of our family name—what I admire most in him, as a dad, was his extraordinary ability to meet each of his sons where we needed him. He never shoved us into a preset idea held in his head. Rather, he discovered our needs. He valued our interests. He listened. Then, and only then, did he mold his fathering to us.

Like custom-made gloves, he became the father all five of us needed him to be.

So thanks, Dad. I’m eternally grateful. Not only for what you gave to me. But, for what you taught me to give to my own children.

We all thank dad for different reasons ... check out more Thanks Dad from the Man of the House team.