The Hyperion Chronicles

#28 A Note of Thanks on this Anniversary

What cannot be described is nonetheless thus attempted:

I am thankful you were there the time I came home from school at a dead run. I was a big kid, but a kid nonetheless; scared of those who had been lying in wait at the bus stop to attack me. You rushed out of the house to defend me without even asking what was going on. You showed me what loyalty was.

I am thankful for the time when you asked Achmed and me what we got you for Christmas, and we told you “Hair!” and you did not get mad. You taught me to have a sense of humor about myself.

I am thankful for the time I got you the mug for Christmas, which was supposed to be the coolest vintage car ever, but I got the wrong one, and you never let on. You acted as if the mug you got was the best, when you had to know. I learned to value other people’s feelings.

I am thankful that you were there, when we all would be watching a movie, and us kids (and maybe mom too) would get scared, and you would reassure us by explaining that the character in danger was right then “having a Coke.” This helped teach me perspective.

I am thankful when I got in my first wreck, and came home scared to death; shaken by the event and what you might say, that you did not get mad and yell, but instead spoke calmly. You also insisted I drive again immediately, which helped calm my nerves and show me I could drive again. You taught me how to handle a crisis.

I am thankful you gave us an example of how to love a wife. You showed affection to mom in front of your kids, even if we claimed to be grossed out (we really weren’t). We saw you apologize first every time you two had an argument, no matter who was wrong (and Lord knows your scorecard was above average there). You told us in a marriage, it did not matter who was wrong, it mattered who was hurt. You taught us all about relationships.

I am thankful for the Sunday you and mom spent two hours talking to the youth leaders about me. I was an angry teenager, who did not know anything, but you were sticking up for your son, who had been treated poorly. At the time, I did not realize the importance of the fact that you skipped the evening service, which you were supposed to preach, without blinking an eye. I had no idea of the political pressures on you then, and the risk you took by confronting my adversaries. You taught me all about priorities.

I am thankful for the thousand and one things I have confided to you that died with the conversation, never to be told again. I am thankful for all the times you took my phone call in the middle of the night, ready to listen and give reassurance. I am thankful for all the times you bailed me out, and the times you did not, when I needed to learn on my own. I am thankful for a shining example of what it means to be a husband, a father, and a man. But most of all, I am thankful for the privilege of being your son.

Hyperion
March 17, 2001

My dad has never been great with song lyrics. There is a song that goes, “Blue on blue, heartache on heartache…” The motto was what he thought the lyrics were.

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