Kim Rosenberg
loretta.kim.rosenberg@gmail.com
To All the Daddies in the World
I’m a daddy’s girl. Fifth of five girls, my dad wasn’t expecting a boy by the time I arrived, and according to my mom, his first question each time one of us came into the world, wasn’t about our gender but our health and hers.
I didn’t go to day care or have a babysitter because Daddy was the bar manager at Portland Golf Club working 3pm to closing and my mom was a nurse working at Good Sam 7-3. They fit in sleeping somehow but just barely. My big sisters babysat me in the gaps but mostly it was my dad who took care of me when I was little.
Daddy taught me to read and make change and change a tire and read a tape measure and build a fire. He taught me to refinish old furniture and that the best sandwich is grilled peanut butter and Tillamook sharp cheddar. He taught me to love old movies and gardens. He taught me to love and respect wild places and wild things.
He died too soon, but when are we ever ready to lose a parent? He died suddenly and unexpectedly when my life was a big, bag of stinky crap. He didn’t get to see me change my life. He didn’t get to see me pull on my big girl boots and leave the relationship he knew was hurting me, he didn’t get to see me finish school or marry a good man but he lives on, as does my mom, in my memories and in every cell of my body.
I’ve been lucky to have more than one daddy–men solid and true and good.
My brother-in-law, who I’ve known my whole life, stepped in to help me during those dangerous days following my separation. He saw me through my return to school all the way to graduation with support both emotional and financial. He always has time to listen to me, even now, and I treasure his wisdom.
My thesis advisor, who I met as an undergrad student in my late thirties, championed my writing and mentored me as a teacher. When I thought I couldn’t continue, he said I could. He taught me to make sourdough bread and to think of all the hard things I’d experienced as the compost necessary to make an artful life.
My sweet and funny father-in-law welcomed me as part of the family right away. He shared with me his love of Shakespeare and foreign movies and all kinds of soup. A former camp director and social worker, he could create and organize community anywhere he went. He played accordion and loved the Marx Brothers and his family.
Daddies are the men who show up in our lives with that strong, good love energy to support and encourage our best. They are the defenders and protectors of the weakest among us. They stand with us when things get tough and they care about us regardless of how we mess up. Daddies stand with children, the elderly, the powerless and the dispossessed. Daddies teach us to be better people by their example.
The Daddies of the world might not always be biological fathers but that doesn’t matter. We need their good, strong Daddy energy now more than ever.
So, here’s a shout out to all the Daddies. Thank you!
Kim Rosenberg
loretta.kim.rosenberg@gmail.com