The measure of a man...(Happy Father's Day....it's a tough gig, isn't it?)

I am posting this for my father; a man who was kind, gentle and brave. I miss him every SINGLE day, but I know that he watches over me...

My father was a quiet and gentle man, with a sharp mind and a very quick wit. He served our country faithfully in the Navy for 28 years, during which time he attended law school and retired with the rank of Captain – an officer of the Navy JAG unit.

When I was young, he would tell us stories here and there of his life as a soldier.  He shared one particular story of being on a ship in the water at the beaches of Normandy. If my memory serves me correctly, he was on a ship that was responsible for transporting the wounded to safety.

He often told the story about being stationed in Korea during the Conflict, and standing next to a Jeep that had been shot. (The shot landed where you might typically find a gas tank.) He called THAT one of his lucky days.

His crowning moment, however, came during his high school football career when his team, the Geneva Bulldogs played their archrivals from Ashtabula. He was the center for the team, and the big play of the game was the center sneak, where he pretended to hike the ball-tucked it under his shirt and sauntered slowly across the goal line. He smiled and laughed every single time he told that story, and so did I.

He died of a massive heart attack when I was 19 years old. The doctors and nurses, who just happened to be dining at the country club at the same time as my parents, could not revive him. He was 58 years old.

There are many lessons that my father taught me before we lost him, but the most important ones were about empathy. I know that he felt the true measure of a man was in the way he treated others. He showed me, by example, that you treat people with compassion, kindness, and a gentle hand. I saw this every single day as he helped so many coal miners in our depressed and tiny town and never reminded them that lawyers were supposed to get paid.  I think he knew that his pay would come at the pearly gates; I just don't think he knew it would be so very soon.  Yes, he had a gentle hand and often, always stretched it out to others.

And those hands?  Those ones who grab ahold for dear life?  Those are the ones that will reach out to you and pull you through those holy gates. You know those gates- they’re the ones you enter before you are truly judged, by the one person that really matters.

Empathy.  It's the real deal.