Thanks, Dad

Well, it's June 15, 2K8. Father's Day in America.

Yesterday, I was watching the U.S. Open golf tournament before Tiger Woods' miraculous lead-taking birdie and eagle when a clip of Tiger and his father came on between rounds. His father passed away a few years ago from cancer, but the lesson he shared with Tiger and us is timeless.

I interpreted the video clip this way:
Tiger was at the tee, but just before he struck the ball, his father dropped a golf bag to distract him. It worked. But Tiger gathered himself, returned to the tee and struck the ball solidly downrange.
They exchanged a knowing look. His was telling to concentrate and remain confident no matter the life obstacle or distraction. He was teaching Tiger mental toughness. He said that if learned that lesson, that in any situation you will be the mentally toughest person wherever he went. Tiger said later, his father was right.

I have to admit, with all teh things my ex-Army father put me through many things I went through, even the Navy, was easier than dealing with him.

A few days ago, NBC's Tim Russert, host of Face the Nation, passed at 58 years young; a son leaving behind a son. His passing reminds me of our mortality and the legacy we leave behind.

What struck me was not the battles he had with politicians, but an interview he had with Tom Brokaw. In it he talked about his father and what he remembered about him.

This morning, I awoke to a popular, young TV Evangelist speaking of a teacher who got her class to write all the names of their classmates and next to them, had them write something good they liked about them. She then compiled the list and handed it to all the children. That affirming list became many of those student's prized possession.

So, here, I will share a list of things I like about my father:

He taught me about the stars.
Indirectly, that taught me about dreams and achieving them despite the distance and obstacles.

He taught me about celestial navigation and showed me how to find the north star, Polaris.
"If you can find that star," he said, I'll never be lost.
I thought that was kind of silly, living in New York City, but the lesson stuck with me and, don't you know that star guided me home when I had lost my way, many-a-day and many-a-year later.
When I was at sea in the Navy, I knew our general location and direction because of where the stars were.

I grew up watching Apollo space launches and he showed me craters on the moon through a Questar mirrored telescope.

He taught me how to study and more important, he taught me how to learn.
He taught me math and English and French.

He wouldn't let me keep my Brooklyn accent.
He said, 'Fughed-aboudit!'
Not really. He was too Caribbean, too British.

He bought a full set of The Encyclopaedia Britannica, complete with a voluminous atlas and dictionary that I spent hours turning pages and seeing new things, peoples and places. Those sets cost a small fortune now, I can only imagine how much they were then, especially with a family of seven kids, mom and grandma.

He introduced me to the wonders libraries possess and taught me how to find my favorite topics through the Dewey Decimal system.
He took me to the Cavernous Brooklyn Public library at Grand Army Plaza, the lion guarded New York Public library and the Donnel in mid town where I put on headphones for the first time and listened to records on vinyl in their listening room.
He taught me how things were inter connected and how one affected another.
He taught me how ignorant people can be but also how kind and noble they can be also.

He taught me to always have manners and respect.
He also taught me how to whup someone who didn't show me respect, both verbally and non.
He taught me to always take the higher ground.

He took me to my first major league baseball game at Shea Stadium where I saw the Mets take the field. Thanks to Tom 'Terrific' Seaver and Tug McGraw, I learned, 'You Gotta Believe.'

He taught me how to read, but more importantly, he taught me how to read between the lines.
I thought that was silly at first, because there was nothing between the lines but space.
How wrong I was.

He taught me how to hold a knife and fork.
He taught me the difference between ghetto grocery store steak and 22nd street on the east side of Manhattan steak.
He taught me the difference between pastry and really good pastry.
He taught us how to make home-made ice cream.

He wore a suit to work every day to the post office and showed me to always look your best.
He taught me quiet dignity.

He taught me how to shave.
And taught me the dangers of leaving Magic Shave on your face too long. Oooo-Eeeee!
He taught me that if I don't take care of my teeth, I'll have to wear funny dentures like he did.
A usually eloquent man, but with out his dentures, he talked comically funny.

He taught me about far away traditions and places like Africa, the Galapagos and the wonders of the deep.
We watched the news, PBS, The undersea world of Jaques Cousteau and Mission Impossible and that was it.
He had me read National Geographic. Its stories and pictures took me around the world.

He took me to the Museum of Natural History on 81st. street and taught me to wonder at creation and history. He took me to the Hayden Planetarium and gave me an appreciation for our place in the universe. He taught me how small we are in the scheme of things, but how great our human and cultural achievement and ability to grasp the infinite is.

He took me to The Met on fifth and Central Park east where I saw African art for the first time. Even then I wondered why Egyptian art was in a separate wing from African art; Egypt is in Africa.
He also taught me that Egypt is a Greek name for that country. They called themselves Kemet or Black. He taught me that Africa is a European name for the continent of colored peoples.

He taught me that it was a Black Pharaoh, Akhnaten, husband of the famed beauty, Nefratiti, who was the first to base his kingdom and society on the 'One God' theology.

He taught me about colonialism and racism.

But more importantly, he taught me about my Afro-Caribbean history.
He taught me a sense of pride and how to hold my head up.

But about the best thing my father taught me was photography; starting with his Nikon F.
It was a medium of endless possibilities.
Einstein said possibilities are more important than facts and I believe it's true.

It was magical the first time I saw a latent image emerge from a previously blank, white sheet of photographic paper floating in a developer bath. It is a feeling that is impossible to describe.
It was truly magic right in front of me. I've never lost that wonder for photography.
That's why I am a photographer now.

At about 12 o'clock today, my 10-year-old son, MAX, called me on his cell phone and wished me a happy Father's Day. That felt good.

He said he liked me because I liked to hang out with him and because he thought I was funny.
I told him I liked him because he's a good young man.

As tough as my dad was on me and my brothers and sisters, he was a good man.
I can only hope I can be as good father to my son as my father was to me.

It's been about 26 years since my father passed.
No, we didn't get along all the time. He was a hard man.
But looking back on this Father's Day, I can do so with a foundation that has carried me to Asia Minor, Kemet, Asia Minor, Europe, the Caribbean and to my deepest PADI Safe dive, a 97 foot wreck dive in the crystal blue waters off Hawai'i's Island of Oahu.

So, Dad, I'd just like to say I appreciate all you taught me and showed me.

Thanks Dad; Happy Father's Day.
I love you.

Your son...