Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

I can see you shaking your head – that quick left-right-left-right, that slight tilt toward your right shoulder. And I hear the rapid-fire “tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk.” You’d have some colorful things to say if you were watching all this. But if I were within earshot, your language would be no stronger than, “Damn fools!” 

You always knew what you were talking about. 

You did like to talk, and you were a great storyteller. But there were some things you never told me and my brothers when we were kids. It took nearly 50 years for you to open up about serving with the Navy in the South Pacific. You spoke proudly of a job that was done and a wartime duty that was served. I heard about treasured friends, admired leaders and a family that was dearly missed as they prayed for your safe return. You liked to tell me about the beautiful auburn-haired girl who waited for you to come home. You said I was just like her.

In all the years that passed, you never asked for thanks. You didn’t talk about the money you could have made had you not served. You didn’t complain about a lack of praise for risking your life. You just got on with it. You got married, had a career, raised three kids. You did what had to be done, and you had little patience for those who didn’t. 

That brings me to the head shaking. If you’re watching your beloved country now, you see supposed leaders weighing which is more important: markets or human lives? You see the lieutenant governor of one of our largest states suggesting grandparents should be willing to sacrifice themselves in exchange for a healthy economy. The Dow Jones Industrial Average was not the reason you spent three years on a destroyer called the USS Thatcher. You always knew there were some things more important than account balances.

You made that point when my first car needed an expensive repair that would wipe out my meager savings. “I know it’s painful,” you said. “But at least they’re only asking for money. It’s not like they want your firstborn.” That was 10 years before I had a firstborn, but your point was well taken.

 Ed and I were deep into some dark humor this gloomy morning, noting we don’t have the option of throwing your generation under the coronavirus bus for the sake of our stock portfolio. It’s too late for that. 

But we could use your wit and wisdom now. It would be worth more to me than my retirement account.

March 24, 2020

Claire Brennan Dunn