The Dad

My granddad's name was John F. Edwards and he was perhaps the most honorable and noble person I've known. What makes a person honorable and noble? Well, I've come to see these characteristics as independent of any religious or philosophical adherence. Sure, a person's religious or philosophical convictions may lend toward their demonstration of honor and nobility, but what I'm talking about transcends a learned or prescribed pattern. The kind of honor and nobility my granddad modeled was a quiet and non-petitioning kind. It didn't ask to be recognized nor did I recognize it until later in life. My granddad was "the dad" to many people. To my elder sister who asked this frail old man to go out into the cold to pick up milk for her hungry babies. He did it. To my own dad whom my granddad constantly encouraged to be the dad to his own family. To me, an adopted, non-blood grandchild upon whom he bestowed the nickname "sir Roderick"; a name I would eventually take as my legal name.


The Dad role is something you didn't try to attain, rather it just happens. You find yourself being the one that family members call upon to help. Even in-laws and perhaps friends of the family. You eventually find yourself trudging in the cold to get them milk or medicine or something when they are ill. You help fix the squeaky door or mend a broken fence. Before you know it, you're The Dad. You didn't learn this role in any religious text or any philosophy course. It seems you have inherited it, perhaps from your own granddad.