What Dad Gave Me

Something I've noticed about lots of my fellow twenty-somethings is that we're really good about talking crap about our parents, bemoaning the bad things they passed down to us and rambling about righting things they do oh so wrong and blah blah blah.

It is part of the beautiful circle of life, that kids get to make right things their parents might have gotten wrong. But we're also really good at sort of forgetting that our parents also have this way of, you know, actually doing things right, and, remarkably, passing down good things. 

Me. Logan. Kramer. Pops.

Since we were both human and all, there were times when I was growing up that my dad drove me crazy. But crazy as he made me, I also grew up believing that all dads were as sincere and noble as he. Now that I'm growing up and getting into the world, I'm learning how supremely bad some people are at parenting and, you know, life. Now I can't really say what I used to say—that all parents try their hardest.

Because some don't. Some just live selfish, and that's when divorces happen, and that's when bitterness gets planted that will likely grow over a lifetime, and that's how kids get their scars. 

This all just makes me appreciate my dad—both my parents, really—all the more. Sure, in keeping with the theme of being human, they didn't get everything right. But they got a lot of things right, and there's one thing they really instilled in me: sincerity.

Everything they did, they did with this huge desire to do right by me. They did that for all us Sneed kids. And for the few things they might've messed up, there were other things that man, they just nailed. 

My dad loved golf. Still loves it. Never gets to play as much as he should. He played all the time when he first got married, though. Was thinking about making a run at the PGA Tour. Dude could've done it. He was good. Is good. Michael Jordan used to always have his celebrity golf tournament at one of our local courses, and dad would always make this joke: "So, you think I could beat him?"

"No Dad, he's Michael Jordan!"

"I didn't say beat him at basketball."

The implication being that he could beat him at golf, of course. I started laughing at the joke more, because it got goofier and goofier because Dad just kept telling it and telling it, but I also always believed him.

At some point after I was born, he shut things down. Still played some golf, enough to stay sharp so he could beat Michael Jordan should the need arise, but those PGA dreams stayed just dreams.

He lived for us. When we got older, instead of playing golf, he'd play basketball with us. When I was a teenager, he dunked (goal was like at eight feet) and tore his labrum. Ended up needing surgery. It still bothers him every once in awhile now. Sometimes even when he's playing golf. 

He gave up a lot, and worked really hard, to give us the best lives possible. So now I work hard as I can to live the best life possible. 

So, thanks Dad. Happy Fathers Day. 

OK, your turn! Phenomenally and hilariously imperfect and flawed as your dad might have been, what did he teach you?