Mr. D

The loss hurts so much because the memories are so full and good. He is the father of my friend John, who died eleven years ago. Mr. D left us on John's birthday March 31. I can't think of many people I know of by just an initial- PE teacher Mr.A  because not many could pronounce his name. Basketball legend Dr. J, the singer Mr. B comes to mind but none with the affection of the recollection of Mr.D.  Growing up  my peers and I always sized up the parents of our friends; what were their boundaries, did they have a bad temper, did they tolerate and  like us?

 

He always enjoyed engaging us in conversation with his interest and ready laughter. He liked once when I noted his flair when stirring a glass of chocolate milk, tapping out a nice rhythmic finish. As a father now I do this. There were three father figures I looked to growing up in my neighborhood on 30th Avenue. They were my father, Mr.Grant and Mr. Dickinson. When theDickinsons moved out to Vegas in '78, I was not sure how much I would see of them.  I knew that John and I would always be friends and would find ways to stay in contact.  John was not one who we might consider to write letters (but he did, and often lengthy) and I wasn't someone who gave much of himself (but I would learn to).

I flew out to Vegas several times and was welcomed at the Dickinson household each time. Once John and I participated in a nutty thing where we jumped over an airplane propeller set beneath a protective steel floor.  Using the  proper technique would allow you to fly up pushed in an airstream created by the propeller. Thirty years later I visualize us wrapped in padded jackets surrounded by the massive sounds of the experience and the two of us flying, crashing and laughing. 

Retreating back to the house on Viking Road to a mightily stirred chocolate milk, dinner and television with Mr. and Mrs. D., John, Dennis and Lucky.  Stories shared of then and since then. Circumstances in time created a bond with this family and me- and while the frequency of visits were not numerous, they became meaningful and important.  The lines of friendship and family became blurred, as the relationships became a part of something that needed to be.  

Last week Maria referred to Mr. D as the type of person you do not witness often; someone who accepts what life presents, no matter how difficult that task might be. By his actions,he seemed to say to us that this was his burden and he would accept it. Mr Dickinson did so with not only strength but with grace.  The grace of God perhaps but I saw it through him.  When moments of humor presented, he accepted those too. At his niece’s Monica’s wedding, he danced and danced, and did so living in the fineness of that day.

As a man devoted to his family, Mr. D set a template for others to learn from.  He did what he needed to do.  If the task was to face a wooly mammoth, he would face that mammoth.  In my adult life I have been content to do what I want without worrying what most people think about me- as long as it answers to my own standards of conduct.  However Mr. D was an exception- I wanted his approval.  

Knowing that he believed in me will continue to be meaningful in my life. It goes without saying that he will be missed but what I need to acknowledge is that his existence is part of who I am, and who I would like to be.