I was looking at the History Channel web site to review the date March 29.
The most significant event was the United States pulling the last of their
combat troops out of Vietnam. On the birthday front, former president John
Tyler was born. (It is sad that I never knew he was a president. I guess
that’s what happens when you grow up in Canada.) Supermodel Elle
Macpherson was also born on that day. There is one man who towers above
all the others who was brought into the world on that day. That man is my
father. I have been blessed to have positive traits from both my parents
but it is from my father I inherited my ability and love of writing. He
was a technical writer for a good part of his career and then a magazine
editor. My mother explained it best when she said, “Scientists have a
message they want to get out so your father goes and talks to them. He
understands what they are saying and writes it in a form that most people can
understand.” I have to say, one of the magazines he edited and wrote for
was Atomic Energy of Canada. I read his articles and still had no clue
what he was talking about. As a boy I remember wanting to watch a comedy
show like MASH or Happy Days at night but my father was engrossed in something
on PBS. So I would go up to my parent’s bedroom and watch on their
television while lying on the bed. During commercial breaks I would look
at the wall in front of me and it was completely filled with awards for his
writing and editing. There were so many awards that some were simply
sitting on the floor. I was always dumbfounded by the sheer volume of
accolades. Not only is my father a great writer but he was recognized as
such in his field. That is a difficult goal to attain. When I first
told him I wanted to be a writer I was young and he told me to make sure I had
another career to support myself with while I wrote. It sounded harsh but
was true. As I have recounted in the past, when I wrote my first chapter
of “Quest for the Red Sapphire” at 13 I proudly displayed it to my father.
He crumpled it up and deposited it on the ground while stating it was
inferior. I’m not going to lie, that hurt. It wasn’t like today
where every child on my son’s soccer team received a trophy whether your team
won or lost. Dad would not let age be an excuse for subpar work. I
could not see it then, but he was inspiring me to be a better writer. I
studied hard and worked at my craft for years. When the book was finally
published my father told me it was well written and he was proud of me. I
had waited most of my life to hear those words. When they came I knew they
were sincere. He is not a man to give false praise. In middle school
we each had to write a paper about who we would like to grow up to be. I
said I wanted to be my father. Though I draw a pale comparison to him, I
still wish I was more like him. For the time being, I will be happy being
myself and having him still in my life.
The most significant event was the United States pulling the last of their
combat troops out of Vietnam. On the birthday front, former president John
Tyler was born. (It is sad that I never knew he was a president. I guess
that’s what happens when you grow up in Canada.) Supermodel Elle
Macpherson was also born on that day. There is one man who towers above
all the others who was brought into the world on that day. That man is my
father. I have been blessed to have positive traits from both my parents
but it is from my father I inherited my ability and love of writing. He
was a technical writer for a good part of his career and then a magazine
editor. My mother explained it best when she said, “Scientists have a
message they want to get out so your father goes and talks to them. He
understands what they are saying and writes it in a form that most people can
understand.” I have to say, one of the magazines he edited and wrote for
was Atomic Energy of Canada. I read his articles and still had no clue
what he was talking about. As a boy I remember wanting to watch a comedy
show like MASH or Happy Days at night but my father was engrossed in something
on PBS. So I would go up to my parent’s bedroom and watch on their
television while lying on the bed. During commercial breaks I would look
at the wall in front of me and it was completely filled with awards for his
writing and editing. There were so many awards that some were simply
sitting on the floor. I was always dumbfounded by the sheer volume of
accolades. Not only is my father a great writer but he was recognized as
such in his field. That is a difficult goal to attain. When I first
told him I wanted to be a writer I was young and he told me to make sure I had
another career to support myself with while I wrote. It sounded harsh but
was true. As I have recounted in the past, when I wrote my first chapter
of “Quest for the Red Sapphire” at 13 I proudly displayed it to my father.
He crumpled it up and deposited it on the ground while stating it was
inferior. I’m not going to lie, that hurt. It wasn’t like today
where every child on my son’s soccer team received a trophy whether your team
won or lost. Dad would not let age be an excuse for subpar work. I
could not see it then, but he was inspiring me to be a better writer. I
studied hard and worked at my craft for years. When the book was finally
published my father told me it was well written and he was proud of me. I
had waited most of my life to hear those words. When they came I knew they
were sincere. He is not a man to give false praise. In middle school
we each had to write a paper about who we would like to grow up to be. I
said I wanted to be my father. Though I draw a pale comparison to him, I
still wish I was more like him. For the time being, I will be happy being
myself and having him still in my life.
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