Has it really been 9 years since I posted?  Wow.  So much has happened since then. Let me summarize.

I retired from the Navy officially January of 2013.  I then spent a little short of 2 years as a Quality Assurance Inspector for Oceaneering in Bremerton.  I then became a Work Control and testing Coordinator for General Dynamics - NASSCO in Bremerton.  From there I moved up into a Planner/Estimator position for almost 6 years.  I left there to pursue a position as the Director of Purchasing and Logistics at Venus Innovative Vehicle Alliance (VIVA) in Houston Texas, which is where I am now.

 

My kids have grown, I have one in college, One starting a career, and 2 still in school.  The Wife and I now live in Texas and are celebrating 23 years of marriage.

 

As far as the gaming hobby, it has gotten a bit bigger.  Some might say out of hand.  My collection now has around 300 games in it (not counting expansions and card decks) and I am regularly following various publishers.  

 

There is a bit of sad news.  A few years ago, My father passed and it left a mark.  The rest of this Post will be my eulogy to him.  

My father was one of, if not the, gentlest and most sincere men I have ever had the privilege to know.  Although a man’s man, and a large man at that, I never recall him berating anyone.  He always treated others fairly and honestly.  He was an anchor in any storm.  We may have grown up poor in monetary possessions, but we never lacked in love.   Dad never really said it, or gave big gestures, or any regular gestures really, but he made sure he gave us solid footing and was there for us.  We never went hungry, and always had a roof over our head and clothes to wear.  As a father now, I know just how much that takes, especially if you aren’t sure what the next paycheck will look like.  There is so much that my father did that I did not recognize growing up.  From making sure that I had integrity and that, even though I may not have realized it, didn’t want anything I hadn’t earned.  You see, dad taught me so much through his actions that I can only hope that I can teach my boys half as much.  In fact, I credit him for much of how my boys turned out. 

I made a lot of mistakes growing up.  From hanging with the wrong crowd to running from God for so many years, and yet, dad waited patiently for me to return.  I recognize that dad is the man and the Christian that I can only dream about being.  He was self sacrificing, kind, respectful, and loving.  Whenever he heard of someone in need, if he could help, he did.  He didn’t look at his calendar (not that he had one), he didn’t try and figure out if they could or would repay him, he just did it.  There were times when he did a job for someone and took vegetables, livestock, or even promises as payment.  I am not even sure if he ever even tried to collect on the promises, and we had a large garden that we had to either can or give away ourselves.  You see, dad believed in giving people dignity as well (That’s the whole respect thing if you weren’t paying attention).  By allowing people to pay him in any way that they could (regardless of whether he truly needed or used it), he helped the people he dealt with maintain their dignity.  And I guess that was the whole point of it, helping people.  I think that was why dad left a good job at Wellman Dynamics after mom died.  I know he wasn’t that happy there and took it as a way to help pay mom’s medical bills, but he had 4 kids to feed and he could have been the head of maintenance and been paid well.  Instead, he chose to go back to running his own business that had a spotty record of paying the bills, long days, and usually left him covered in stuff that you don’t mention in polite society.  I now understand that decision.  He couldn’t help people as much at the factory.  He wasn’t able to be flexible with his schedule to take care of others.  That was my dad. 

I think that is why he was so good at games.  It was his outlet for his selfishness.  And even then, I don’t think it was, I think he was just competitive and wanted to make sure his kids learned the value of earning the victory.  You see, dad never let us win.  We had to beat him fairly.  I don’t remember if I ever did, but I doubt it.  Allow me to demonstrate.  In 2012, my Grandmother died and it brought all four of his kids together for the first, and so far last, time in many years.  Before we went back to our separate lives, we all gathered around the table for a game with dad, for old time’s sake.  We chose hearts.  Throughout the game, us kids were talking and poking at each other.  Hooting and hollering when we got something by our sibling’s defenses and talking about how badly we were going to beat each other.  Dad just sat quietly playing his cards, every once in while he would quietly utter an OK or yup. He never even bothered to give that lopsided grin of his when he managed to run the table.  The final scores came in and dad’s response was typical.  Just a nod that we tried and that lopsided grin I mentioned.  You see, the final score was Ira 120, Jean 101, Julie 78, I had 76 (although Julie and I may have been swapped I can’t remember for sure, but this is my story so we will stick with that), and dad, yeah, he had 6.  Yes, I said six.  While we were arguing over who was going to give who the most hearts or the queen, dad quietly made sure we all got them and that he didn’t.  He let us talk and throw hearts at each other while he quietly played the game.  He took a heart to make sure we didn’t run the table and kept quiet when he decided to run the table and when dad decided to run the table, he did.  That was dad.  He had no problem sitting quietly while others played the game.  He just made sure that he played the hand he was dealt to the best of his ability and let everyone else do the smack talking.  He just made sure that he did the best he could with what he got.  That was how he approached life as well.  He dealt with what was in his hand and used it the best he could.  He was always giving away his heart to help others and holding back just enough to make sure that he didn’t give someone so much they hurt others.

I may never have said it, but it was my dad who gave me my love for the outdoors.  He took me hunting and fishing when he could.  I have to think I disappointed him a bit with my marksmanship, but he took me none the less.  He took us camping and encouraged me to go regularly, although the fact that it rained every time I went may have had something to do with it.  He told stories of his youth and the camping trips he took with his cousin Andy.  He regaled us with hunting stories and adventures in the great outdoors.  He made sure we got to see some of the great sites in America like Yellowstone and Mount Rushmore.  He took us places that may have seemed odd to others, but became lasting memories for us. 

I could go on and on, but dad also taught us that we should keep it short.  Dad didn’t say much, but what he did say had meaning.  When dad spoke, it wasn’t idle chatter, it had a purpose.  He communicated directly and with intent.  Every once in a while we would catch him in a story, but it usually ended rather quickly.  I remember much of what he said to me, and he didn’t just say it, he lived it.  My favorite saying of his that has stuck with me all these years is, “sometimes the difference between a great job and messing it up is 5 minutes, so take the 5 minutes to make sure it is right.”  It summarized dad’s entire life.  Take the time to do it right.  Slow down and make sure that everything is good.  Take the time to care for your neighbor.  Take a second to listen to others.  Take a minute to see the beauty around you. 

I mentioned that dad was the Christian that I can only hope to be.  I don’t say that lightly.  You see, I left the church when I joined the Navy, but in reality, I had checked out years earlier.  In that I know I was a disappointment to my dad.  It wasn’t his fault, I was the one who made that decision, but I know it wore on him.  I was 35 before I truly came back.  My wife started dragging me to church in 2007 and I recommitted myself in 2009.  Since that time, I have done a lot of growing.  Throughout that process, I kept looking back and nearly every lesson I learned about my relationship with Christ I could point to at least one, if not multiple, instances where my dad had already given me an example.  I never heard him talk badly about another.  I never heard him treat others with disrespect.  I know of many instances where he gave when he didn’t have much to give.  At the time, none of these things made sense or even registered as important to my addled teenage mind, but looking back, they have given me an example to live up to.  I can’t say it enough.  My dad shaped so much of who I am that I can only hope to be half the man he was.  If I am half the father and husband that he was, then I may say I am something.

All that being said, I have to add on the story behind it.  A story I didn’t know the entirety of until my Dad’s funeral.  You see, I had never asked dad for his salvation story.  I knew he was saved not just by his actions above, but because he told me when my mom died, and again when his father died.  I just assumed he had been saved when he was a kid because my grandmother had always gone to church and she told me she took him regularly.  The reality of it makes some of what dad said and did throughout his life make much more sense.  It also made me realize how much some of the things I did as a kid hurt him.  And it explains his reaction to my return to Christ (More on that later).

Just before the funeral, I learned that my dad was saved as an adult.  Before that he was a bit of a troublemaker.  Growing up, I heard stories from when he was a kid of some of the things he did, but they were severely watered down.  I should have guessed from some of the friends he had, but I was oblivious because there was no way the gentle kind man my dad was could have been the hellion he would have to be to do that kind of thing.  I learned at the funeral that dad was the leader of his group in high school.  His group was the group that was the troublemakers, rabble rousers, and tough guys.  It didn’t improve when he joined the air force.  One of my favorite pictures of dad from that era is him standing next to his brand new Hemi Cuda.  I now understand dad’s embarrassment when it comes to that photo as it was from a time when he was still out of control.  Dad met mom at college and they were married.  Neither were saved at the time.  Shortly after they had a son, my older brother, named John. 

Most people don’t know that I had an older brother.  This is because he died when he was 2, before my elder sister or I were born or even conceived.  Mom told me the story of how he died, but not all of it.  Mom told me he drowned while they were on a date.  The babysitter lost track of him and when she found him he was in a creek and drowned.  That was all I knew until the day of the funeral, which is when I learned the rest of the story.  The “date” my mom and dad were on was a drunken bender.  They were tying one on at the local bar in Green Bend, Utah.  I can’t imagine how they learned of their son’s death, whether it was a cop coming into the bar to tell them or a frantic phone call from the sitter to the bartender, or worse the babysitter in tears telling my drunken parents their child was dead, I may never know, and don’t think I want to.  Either way it devastated my parents.   They returned to Iowa for the funeral and didn’t get a lot of support there.  When they returned to Green Bend, they searched for a while and ended up going into a small local church.  Dad told my sister that it was the worst sermon he had ever heard.  This is saying something because I have sat through some horrendous services with my dad.  Anyway, he ended up walking the aisle that night and never looked back.  Mom followed shortly.  Everyone who knew dad before said he was a changed man.  I only ever knew him as I described above.

I also learned a few things that I guess I knew but didn’t pay attention to.  Dad read through the Bible every year.  He got up before us kids and read using one of the many read the bible in a year brochures.  He also prayed and knew the Bible and had much of it memorized.   The pastor at the church dad attended remembered dad not just quoting verses, but correcting him.  We had dad’s bible at the funeral and it was clearly loved and read.  The binding was worn, the pages frayed at the corner, and the ribbon marking the next day’s reading.  Dad knew and loved the lord and it came from one of the greatest tragedies to befall a parent. 

I mentioned earlier dad’s reaction to my return to the Lord.  When I called and told dad I was going to church again and had rededicated myself to God, dad said “I am very happy.”  At the time, it held no significance, it was the expected answer.  The next time I was home, I remember dad’s greeting, not because it was that out of the ordinary, but because it no longer felt forced.  Before that time, whenever I returned home, I got the distinct feeling dad was waiting for the bad news, but that next return it was a genuine welcome and a joy to see me. 

I think dad’s greatest hope was the salvation of his kids.  I believe this is why he was so proud of my younger sister.  Of the 4 of us, she is the one who consistently pursued God and God’s purpose.  My siblings and I referred to her as daddy’s little girl, but in reality, she was the only one who pursued dad’s number one love, God.  I became closer in the last few years as I learned to pursue God, but I never fully understood dad’s pursuit until after he passed.  I thought I would make him proud by following his steps on earth, learning mechanical and electrical things, being good at math and science, and playing the games he loved.  I now know that he would have been much prouder if I had pursued my heavenly father.  I believe that is my greatest regret.  In pursuing my earthly father over my heavenly father, I lost contact with both during my youth.  The strange thing is, I look back and I now recognize that both my earthly father and my heavenly father never stopped pursuing me.  Even when I clearly turned my back on them and on their love, they pursued me.  When I embraced the things they hated, they loved me and pursued me.  When I cursed them and denounced them, they pursued me.  I didn’t deserve it, but they did it anyway.  If I can love half that well, then I will be onto something.

I can only hope that I can continue my dad’s legacy of love.  I have a ways to go, but if I learned anything from dad’s funeral, it is that I need to be more like him in so many ways.  Better a late start than no start.  I wish I could have known all of this while he was alive and that we could have talked, but now I just have to go forward and use what I know so that when I see him again in heaven I can hear him say he is pleased with me.  I look forward to seeing My mom and dad and older brother in heaven someday.  I just hope that I can earn half as nice a crown as my dad’s

 

Thanks for reading.  I hope to post a little more regularly.  See you soon.