Father's Day, Part II

It just so happened that I started this blog in May of last year, so one of my earlier posts was on Father's Day about my dad. I've mentioned him a couple of times since then. And, since it is indeed Father's Day, I thought I would throw another little nugget out there.

Okay, two more stories about dad involving his reputation:

First Story:

I grew up in a small town. We had a sod farm, which meant we had several tractors. We not only had our own land, but we also leased land from several people. Often times, to get a tractor from one piece of property to another, we simply drove them. I've spent lots of hours driving tractors, forklifts, and other equipment down the highway.

On one such occasion, I stopped at a gas station and filled up the tractor I was driving with diesel. I topped off the tank, went inside...and realized I didn't have any money. No one was home, and this was WAY before the days of everyone carrying a cell phone.

So what did I do? Simple.

I went up to the counter and said, "I just filled up my tractor and realized I don't have my wallet. Can my dad stop by later and pay?"

"Aren't you Bobby Butler's son?"

"Yes."

"Sure. No problem."

Like I said, simple.

Second Story:

Another time a friend and I were going to go fishing in a little pond on one of the properties that we leased. As we were driving across the property toward the pond, a truck came barreling across the field towards us and pulled up next to my window. The following conversation occurred:

"What do you boys think you are doing?"

"We were gonna go fishing."

"Who told you could go fishing in my pond?"

"My dad said he didn't think you would mind..."

"Who the $%^& is your dad?"

"Bobby Butler."

"Oh...well...you boys go ahead."

And he drove off.

Needless to say, my friend and I were a little concerned from that exchange. We fished for maybe 10 minutes, but we felt so uncomfortable that we headed back to my house. When we arrived, the gentleman was already there, apologizing to my dad for using such colorful metaphors when talking to me.

My dad probably could not have quoted Proverbs 22:1 verbatim:

A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold.

But he knew the truth of it, he believed it, and did his best to live it. He knew the asset and/or liability a man's (or woman's) reputation can be. His reputation around the small town that I grew up in was that he was a tough but fair, honest, hard-working man. His reputation around our home was that he rocked!

My Word Is My Blah

Have you ever seen the movie "The Freshman" starring Matthew Broderick and Marlon Brando? If you haven't, you might want to check it out. It's a (sorta) dark comedy about a college freshman named Clark Kellogg (Broderick) who becomes a delivery man for a godfather-like character named Carmine Sabitini (Brando). It's got some funny moments, but there is a particular scene that stands out to me. I actually think about it fairly often.

Near the end of the movie, there's a scene where Clark really, really wants to talk to Carmine. Carmine brushes him off and Clark presses the issue. I couldn't find the actual script, but in my head, this is the way the scene plays out:

Clark: I really have to talk to you.

Carmine: We'll talk after dinner.

Clark: Do you promise?

Carmine: By definition, everything I say is a promise.

Think about Carmine's last line for a minute. I'll wait.

(Whistle, whistle, whistle...toe tap, toe tap, toe tap...checking watch)

Okay!

"By definition, everything I say is a promise." That's something worth striving for. If we find ourselves having to reassure the people in our lives that we'll do what we say we'll do, then that's a problem. I want to live my life in such a way that my family and friends never feel that my words are an empty promise. I have a couple of friends that are great friends, but it's sad to say that if they say they are coming over, I don't count on it until they drive up.

I understand that there are some instances where you just can't do what you've said. It happens. Sometimes circumstances change. Am I living this idea out perfectly? Nope. But I'm trying. This is something my dad stressed when I was growing up.

It also makes me think of this Bible verse:

Matthew 5:37
Simply let your 'Yes' be 'Yes,' and your 'No,' 'No'; anything beyond this comes from the evil one.

What do you think? Is this something you think about? Something you struggle with?

It's Just Some Comic Books

When I was 9 years old, my family became friends with a family named the Sweets. They had a son named Woody who was a couple of years older than me. He collected comic books, so I started collecting comic books.

I loved to read, and I already had quite a few comics, but the idea of collecting them was new to me. Woody introduced me to price guides, correct storage and handling, etc. I wanted to collect everything, but that of course was impossible, so I decided to focus on my favorite: The Avengers.

The Avengers had all the greatest heroes: Iron Man, Captain America, Ant Man, Thor, The Wasp, and more. Of course, the Avengers also included The Vision, who was my favorite.

After I had been collecting for a year or two, my family took a trip to a large flea market/trade day/swap meet in Pearland, Texas. It just so happened, one of the permanent stores at this location was a comic shop! Wahoo!! Comic books!

In this comic shop, like most, comics were organized alphabetically by title, starting from the lowest numbered issue and going forward. When we entered the store, I went straight for the Avengers, and started looking through the most recent issues. I only had a few dollars with me, and I knew I could get more book for my buck by buying the newer issues, which are usually the least expensive.

So, as I was looking through the 150's and 160's, my dad walked up and started looking through the box to my left. He pulled out a comic and laid it on the box.

"Do you have this one?"

I glanced over, it was Avengers issue number 23!

"No sir," I said, thinking to myself, "Of course not, Dad, that's number 23!" At that time, my oldest issue was number 127. I went back to sorting through the 150s: 152...need it...153...got it.

"Do you have this one?" He had laid issue 24 on top of 23.

"No sir."

Okay...154...got it...155...got it.

"How about this one?"

Issue 26. Now I started to get suspicious.

"No sir."

Issue 27 joined the pile. "This one?"

I just shook my head.

"These the other ones you need?" he asked, picking up the stack I had created.

I just nodded.

Dad walked up to the counter and purchased them. I was now the owner of issues 23, 24, 26, and 27!! No way!!

Almost 30 years later, I can still tell you the numbers of those four issues. It wasn't the fact that my dad spent some money on me and bought me some comics. It was that he participated. Even though it was only for a few minutes and in a small degree, he demonstrated that he knew something about what I was interested in. My dad was not a "comic book kind of guy". In fact, in his life, I don't know that he ever read a single comic.

Of course, this wasn't the only time my dad ever participated in the things I liked. He was my t-ball coach, and came to see me play the trumpet every time I played. But there was something about that day, that moment, that has always stuck with me.

I think it is for two reasons. One, he surprised me! I had no idea he was going to do what he did. And two, I didn't ask him to do it. Not only was he willing, he initiated it. Oh yeah, there's a third reason...it involved the Avengers!

Father's Day

I wonder how many blogs have that topic today? I am a father of almost two years. My son's birthday is July 5th. But Father's Day always makes me think of my father and what he meant to me. He, without a doubt, has had the most influence on the person that I am today.

Originally in this post I started to give you some background details about my dad. Where he was born, how poor he was growing up, etc. But I deleted that lengthy paragraph. I'm not writing this post to tell you the history of my father. My intent is just to share two stories about him with you.

First story:

My dad was Santa Claus. Not only did he look like Santa Claus (yes, that's him in the pictures), and play Santa Claus at the mall and other places, he was Santa in his heart. For evidence, read the following story. My mother often played "Mrs. Claus" to his Santa. Especially at the mall, where it required a little more organization.

One day, a little girl got on my dad's lap. He asked the standard questions of her.

"Have you been a good girl?" and "What would you like for Christmas?"

I never heard what her answer to the first question was, but her answer to the second was, "Glasses, so I can read better."

My dad held it together and finished his "Santa time" with the little girl. After she got down and went back to her mother and they left, my dad called my mother over. He explained to her what had happened and told her, "Go buy that little girl some glasses!"

My mom caught up with the mother, pulled her aside and did in fact buy the little girl some glasses. I don't know the story of why the mother couldn't afford the glasses. You can fill in the blanks yourself with whatever back story you want. The point to me was the instant compassion my father felt, and the instant action he took.

Second story:

When I was young, we lived very close to a busy highway. Consequently, I lost my first couple of dogs to the high speed traffic.

When I was about seven, a Boston Terrier wandered up to our house. He was the cutest little dog you had ever seen. My parents explained that he was someone's dog and that we had to try to find his home.

We did our due diligence and put up signs near our house and contacted the local vet (which also acted as the animal shelter). I think we even put an ad in the paper. After a few weeks, we gave up looking and my parent's declared him our dog. I had named him Buster. I used to feed him hot dogs and cheese from the frig.

About this same time, my father had a '68 Ford (remember, this was 1976, so it wasn't that old then) parked by the road for sale. A gentleman stopped to look at the car. Buster came around the corner of the house. The man took one look at him and said, "That's my dog." Sure enough, he called Buster by name his original name and it was obvious the dog knew him. He only lived a few miles down the road from us, but for whatever reason hadn't seen any of our attempts to find him.

Needless to say, the man was very excited to get his dog back. My dad told him how attached I was to the dog (by this time it had been a couple of months).

The guy replied, "I understand and I'm sorry, but he's my dog."

So then my dad did something that I still think about all the time.

"If I give you the car, will you let my son keep the dog?"

My dad gave the man the car. Now, I don't know how much the car was worth, or how bad we did or did not need the money. It doesn't matter. What does matter is my dad's heart in the situation. It took him 3 seconds to decide that my happiness was more important to him than selling the car and making some money.

Now the worst and best parts of the story. The worst part is that my father died in a car accident on December 1st, 1999. The best part? My mother told me this story after he passed away.

Dad never mentioned this to me. Twenty-three years, and he never said, "You know what I did for you?"

That's selfless love. He wasn't doing it for me so that I would think he was great or so he would have some leverage to use against me in the future. He did it because he loved me.

He wasn't perfect. He made plenty of mistakes as a dad. I, of course, swore I wouldn't make the same mistakes with my children. I'm sure I have and will.

But I hope I can one day be a father (and a man) like him.