Where can you find a whole state full of people who are already tired of politicians pandering for their vote, and just wish to be left alone to plant their corn and soybeans? In Iowa, naturally.
It is only June 2015, yet Iowa is already overflowing with campaign people setting up shop as they crank up for the 2016 election process known as the Iowa Caucus. It is in Iowa where citizens fill churches, halls, tents, and libraries, sometimes in 100° plus or 30° below weather, to listen to promises of politicians begging for our trust, our loyalty, our money as they seek our nation’s highest office.
As I pause to take a breath before this process begins, I receive in the mail an envelope containing a document with a Seal of the State of Kentucky on it. It is signed by two politicians—members of the state’s Senate. Tears run down my face as I read the greetings that say, “Your father is deeply mourned on this day and recognized by the members of this honorable body as a highly regarded citizen who made many and lasting contributions to his family, friends, community and Nation before his passing…” The letter goes on to recount the ordinary details of my father’s ordinary life—he worked as a railway mail clerk for the Postal Service after his time in WWII and was a member of the local VFW post. That was it. My father was a plain and unremarkable man who lived with his wife for over fifty years and had two daughters and one who was stillborn. He never achieved fame or fortune, lived in the same simple house almost his whole life, shot pool, went to church and enjoyed his family in his own simple and unremarkable way.
But what struck me hard was how the document ended with the words, “He was an honorable veteran who served with valor and will be long remembered by all those whose lives were touched by his remarkable presence and is hereby deemed by this honorable body most worthy of its remembrance.”
Wiping the tears from my face, my first cynical impulse was to laugh and think how this politician was looking for votes in the wrong place. But the words did describe my father’s life—a man of valor who did not avoid military service but who volunteered for it and despite injury and sickness did not desert his post. He came home and transferred that loyalty to his family and country, through day in and day out of work and tough days of married life. Finally, he faced his last illness with an open smile and trust in God, his daughters, and the medical staff—a lengthy trial by fire that never stripped away the smile on his face.
I felt ashamed at my cynicism because everything they said about my father was the truth. The full and absolute truth.
So on this Father’s Day, this Iowa citizen, armed with her skeptical attitude in place, still has a great deal to thank at least two politicians for: a lovely formal tribute to my father and his, yes, remarkable life.
Such a tribute, however, should remind us of the millions of fathers throughout the world living those same loving and remarkable lives. As our society holds up the likes of basketball stars, football players, and a few of the Avengers, we should also remember those quiet, unremarkable dads. The fathers who are living lives of undeniable faith, who give us a steady hope and an endless unconditional love. Even in twenty-first century terms, these dads are living the most remarkable and memorable lives of all.
© iStock/RichVintage Photography
