What if

The classic Father's Day gift!

For three decades, I’ve had no temporal connection to Father’s Day. And with time, my emotional connection faded. This isn’t a martyr’s tale – just a factual assessment. Having lost Dad and not having any children, the day passes pretty much without notice.

Tonight, I attended an exhibition of joy, talent, and family pride. My friends at the Tree of Life Studio in Chelsea, Michigan (I’ve featured them before, see: Dancing Wildflowers) had their annual exposition of dance and drumming featuring their students and some guest performers. Their overarching theme was a tribute to the late Michael Jackson and different video and audio effects were weaved into dance and drumming to celebrate the King of Pop’s talents while tip toeing past this eccentricities. Overall, this was a very entertaining, professional and nearly flawless endeavor.

I say “nearly” with love.

Third on the program was a dance interpretation to the hit “Beat it.” The cast featured a very talented dancer who (I’m guessing) was a teacher at the studio, three young ladies of approximately 8-10 years, one young lady (again, a guess) of about six and a young lad, Justin A______, who may have been five. The teacher and the older children executed a fun set of moves that even Michael would have cheered. The six-year old danced very well – on her own terms (I loved it). The lad, well, he had a blast.

Not sure when to do any particular move, he eyed the teacher throughout the number and stayed a happy three or four beats behind. Whenever he would approximate a step in keeping with the choreography, the crowd went crazy. I’m lousy at describing dance, but one particular move involved being almost in a crab walk but supporting one’s torso on a single arm. The other arm is extended upward and the feet chop alternately to the driving beat. Justin liked this move – he’d finesse his arm upward and chop his feet well into the next stanza while his fellow cast members executed several other steps. Undaunted, Justin would stand and await the next time he got to chop.

I found myself cheering for him and actually felt a tear welling up. This was the most earnest performance of the evening (no detraction from any of the other performers – I just thought this little guy was neat) and I found myself moved. I ask: is this along the lines of what a father would feel if his son or daughter was in the show, playing peewee baseball, or catching his/her first fish?

My job allows me to interact routinely with 18 – 30 year old university students and I’ve also cheered their successes and viewed them through pride's prism. I’m a real and adopted uncle to some wonderful young men and women. I distinctly recall attending my God-daughter’s soccer game when she was four – game is truly a generous description. It was more of a blob of little girls chasing a ball to and fro (again, it was awesome!).

Five young men and women have bagged their first deer on my property – I get more excited by their success than my own.

I don’t know, maybe this is mostly a reflection on the road not taken – but I want to tell all the fathers out there how lucky they are.



Tie image courtesy of: http://www.clker.com/clipart-necktie.html