What My Father Taught Me

(Mom and dad right after they met in 1945. They were married a few weeks later.)

If my dad were still with us, he would be ninety-nine today, October 8, 2019.

Many things have changed since my father passed away ten years ago.

One thing that has changed is I have written many more books than that second book I was so proud of writing.

Looking through his papers, I discovered that he had given me a C-minus on that book, Living In Grace. He was always a teacher. He had to grade it. But as a father, he simply told me he liked it.

Now almost sixteen books later, I wonder if I might be earning at least a C+, maybe more. Dad never had a chance to read any of my fiction or fantasy books. For all I know, he might have liked them better than spiritual self-help.

Science Fiction and Utopias were his areas of expertise and interest, after all.

On the other hand, he might have liked my spiritual self-help books, because he taught me my first affirmation: “Everyday in every way I am getting better and better.” Émile Coué

He also taught me how to fall asleep at night, dry off after a shower, how to tie my shoes, and how to change someone’s mind—usually his—as we were often on the opposite sides of his “rules” for me.

He taught many things, and as I am now the parent and grandparent, I reflect on how much I am my father’s daughter. How many things I love that he loved, from gardening to what I write.

And I think about what else I could have learned about if I had only paid more attention, or asked him to tell me about it. I wish that when I was younger, I would have asked him more about the people that he was friends with, like Isaac Asimov and or Ursala Le Quin.

Maybe I wasn’t ready? But I wish it would’ve been.

That is the point of this reflection. To remind me and you to ask people questions and listen to their stories.

So, here’s my advice, something that I—like my father—am full of for better or worse.

If your parents are still present in your life, ask them questions about things that they are interested in. It might turn out to be something you’re interested in, too.

A few years ago, I found myself at a science-fiction and fantasy conference, thinking about my dad. And in a moment of clarity, I realized that my dad used to go to that same conference every year.

What if I would’ve asked to go with him, what would I have learned long ago? Who would I have met that I think of now as the masters of their genre?
One time, he and my mom asked me if I wanted to go to the Utopia conference with him. I should have gone if only for him, it was his baby, after all. But I turned it down, and I still regret it, even though it happened long ago. I did go to the last few that he attended. It only partially made up for that special one that I missed.

So, my friends—young and old—if your parents ask you if you will go somewhere with them. Do it. It might just change your life. And it will mean the world to them.

After dad died, I was worried about my mother. She was my dad’s appendage, and I wasn’t sure if she would want to stay in life without him. Instead, she happily surprised us all. She learned how to make her own decisions and how to run her own life.

One of the first things she did was ask her children to take her back to see her relatives in Louisiana. We did. I’ll never forget it. And I know it was a treasured time for her, too.

Ten years later, she’s stronger and more herself than she has ever been, and I have learned that I’m happy to be like her, too.

So on this anniversary of my dad’s moving on, I am reflecting on the importance of asking your parents, and other loved ones, questions. And then listen to what they have to teach you.

This is something I am learning to do myself. And I wish I would’ve learned it much earlier.

At least eleven years ago.