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I’m Turning into My Father

My dad is the hardest worker I know, although I might have a bias. He came from immigrant stock and was never handed anything in his life. He worked his way from sweeping up the pressroom of a printing company to general manager of a (different) printing company.

He started to commute once our family moved to Wisconsin from Illinois in 1996. He stays in Illinois during the week, comes back to Door County on the weekends, and leaves about 4 in the morning on Mondays. Out of 18 years of commuting like this (and he still is), he’s only ever missed coming home a handful of times. My mom used to say that we saw him more often when he commuted because when we lived in Illinois he got called in to work at all times of the day – presses run at all hours and when there was a problem, my dad was often called.

I admire how hard my dad works; it’s who he is and I can’t imagine him doing anything else.

When I think of my dad his work ethic comes straight to mind, but it’s another of his traits that I’m thankful to have in a father – unconditional love.

As a 24-year-old grad student who wasn’t married, I was scared to tell my parents I was pregnant. As soon as I found out I called my mom, crying, and told her not to tell my dad yet – my dad was always the stricter of the two. About five minutes after I got off the phone with my mom, my dad called. I answered with a shaky voice, strained from crying. I heard on the other end of the line, “Hey, congratulations, that’s great.” Those few, simple words were all I needed to know that everything was okay, I was fine. He didn’t need to take an hour, a day, a week to come to terms with my pregnancy, he accepted it immediately without judgment.

Many women groan at the thought that they’re turning into their mothers. I’ve realized I’m turning into my father, and that’s not a bad thing. Everything from my nearsightedness to my intolerance of large crowds, I inherited/learned from him. I can only hope to have half of his work ethic and unconditional love.