My Dad by Jake O'Neill

When we were told we had to write about our fathers for our end of semester assignment I did not think there was much to write. The trouble is that a lot of what mine has done in his job is classified so there are tales about Dad I have heard that I cannot repeat. My first draft started 'An old man who likes fishing,' which whilst true could apply to lots of men and misses out an awful lot of what makes Dad who he is. Plus I have never really thought about my father other than as Dad, who has been grey since before we were born and who takes us to ball games and on fishing trips. It is amazing what you see when you watch someone familiar interact with others.

We were in Washington for the weekend just after the assignment was given and watching Dad there gave me a whole new insight into his character. When my rumpled, somewhat scruffy father walked into a room full of uniforms everyone turned towards him and I noticed how he dominated the room. Walking down a corridor at the Pentagon I saw men in suits greet him with respect and in some cases awe in their eyes. Dad was his usual casual self but, despite him no longer being in uniform, there was a lot of standing to attention and saluting when he was near. One thing I have learnt with parents in the military is that serving men and women salute others in uniform automatically, but saluting a civilian is only done with deep respect. That was quite a weird thing to me. Sure I respect my parents, but Dad is the more laidback parent who loves to play and Mom reckons we will soon outgrow him and he will have to find other playmates. We argue with him much more than we do Mom.

Although most of Dad's service life is classified, he does have an impressive collection of medals sat in a drawer at home, a lot of which mirror Mom's. I know they served together, but that is one of the periods of their lives which we cannot talk about. He was Mom's commanding officer at one point but, to hear them now, you would never believe it. Dad says Mom was good at sounding obedient but not so good at being obedient, but then they started arguing about whether Mom was 'keeping him informed' or 'arguing the toss about everything'. Uncle Daniel says Mom was very obedient, she just had to keep explaining simple things to Dad, but he said it in Dad's hearing and I think it was more a dig at Dad than anything.

Dad is brighter than he makes out and actually knows a lot of stuff, but he told me once that he always liked Mom's way of explaining things and it wound people up (Uncle Daniel was there at the time) when he acted dumb. Sometimes he asks what seem like silly questions until you think about what he has said and not the way he has said it. If Mom is good at explaining things Dad is good at seeing to the heart of a problem.

Dad had another son once, who accidentally shot himself. Not surprisingly, Dad is very careful with weapons at home. In other ways he is pretty cool about injuries. He has been injured so many times himself, I suppose he has seen it all.

He tends to be jokey around friends, but he once said, after a particularly long diatribe on ancient cultures, that Uncle Daniel was there with him when he was in the worst pain ever and for that you would put up with a lot.

My Dad has always been there for me when I needed him, but I don't think that until now I really realised how much he has done for our country. Whenever we meet someone he served with they are pleased to see him and, if they can, they talk about how he helped them or even saved their life. When a doctor friend of theirs died, at her memorial Mom read out all the names of all the people whose lives she had saved. If they did that for Dad I get the feeling the list would be pretty long.

But my Dad is also the person who loves the Simpsons and who will spend hours fishing in a pond with no fish. He is a mass of contradictions, but I think he is a complicated and courageous man who hides all that under a flippant exterior. He loves his family deeply, but to hear him argue with Mom or treat our childhood scrapes lightly, you may find it difficult to believe. You need to catch him sitting on the porch with his arm around Mom or looking around for her when he seems to be chatting at a party. Or sat with me all night when I had tonsillitis or sitting through school plays when he was meant to be on the phone to the Pentagon.

My father loves me and I love him, but we do not need to say it.

The End

Jake O'Neill