Fathers’ Day

• Posted on 15th June 2018
• in Entertainment, entertainment books
• by Ben

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My father, Bishop Benjamin Bryant, left me way too soon. I was twenty-seven. He was fifty-four. That was fifty-five years ago and I’m still pissed off. So much for Father’s Day.

I know dying that day was not his (conscious) choice. He probably made that decision long before he entered his physical unit (aka was born). I say probably because I’m not sure exactly how this works. I’m pretty confident that we lay out a curriculum for ourselves before we take birth but I have no idea if that plan includes the graduation date.

But, hey, I don’t want to weird you out with this metaphysical talk, Sorry ‘bout that.

“Dad” Bryant – as Bish’s father was known – was an autocratic son-of-a-bitch. He would have liked slavery but since it was no more, (with two wives) he sired seventeen children most of whom had to leave school to work his farm as soon as they were big enough to wield a hoe. Bish made it to the eighth grade.

Compared to his sire Bish was light years better at the fathering job yet still left a lot to be desired. But my dad had a lousy role model for fathering. He didn’t know how to deal with a young boy. “You’re too little” was his mantra when I wanted to “help” him fix or build stuff; when I wanted to learn how to cast a fishing line or patch a tire. My mom, Lucy, is the one who tossed a ball with me in the yard. She was even the one who took a switch to my bottom when I “misbehaved”.

And yet I was proud of him, the work he did and the example of his upright behavior.

Bish was one of three journeyman linemen in Bristol during the war. He rode his bike to work to save gas. He wanted to enlist in the SeaBees (he would have been a great one) but as a “hot-wire” lineman he was considered essential to the home front. A hot wire lineman is the type who would climb a pole and repair electrical wires carrying up to 12,000 volts while it was hot! He didn’t have a formal education but he did have a brilliant mind. When we went to the grocery for a week’s worth of supplies he would give the checkout person the total, including tax before seeing the tab. He was always correct.

My dad was a skilled laborer but when he went to church in his blue serge suit and homburg hat he looked more like a banker or a doctor. Men of those professions were his closest friends.

He was an actual Good Christian. He practiced what he preached, as they say. The rough hewn men with whom he worked kidded him and called him “Dadgummit” which was as close to cussing as he ever came. But in spite of our somewhat detached relationship he taught me a lot of excellent values mainly by example.

As I wrote in an earlier post: He was the first metrosexual, way ahead of his time. He used to say, “I run things around my house; the washing machine, the vacuum cleaner…” And he wasn’t kidding. My dad, Bish, appreciated and supported my mom, Lucy just as much as I appreciate and support Elizabeth.

And another thing I learned from Dad by observation is to tell people how you feel about them (except for your son). When friends visited our house and were leaving he would often tell them he loved them. Funnily I don’t remember him ever saying that to me. My mother told me that dad was proud of me and bragged about me to others but, alas, I never heard it from him.

My father, Bishop Benjamin Bryant, was a good man and he did the best he could. I did love him and I miss him but I’m still pissed that he left me so early.

If your dad is still with you say Thank You and tell him you love him whether he reciprocates or not.

You don’t need to wait for Fathers’ Day.

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