This picture (above) is one of my favorites. I see it every day as it is sits atop the refrigerator in my office. It was taken in Havre, Montana during our trip west in 2017, the move, driving the dogs out here. My Dad drove all the way. He was wearing this shirt when he died.
So, I was cutting a big stick of summer sausage the other day, and this action always makes me think of my Dad. For years, AS AN ADULT, I got him to cut up a large stick of summer sausage for me as he was much better at even and somewhat uniform cutting. When I was living with my parents and helping take care of my mother, Mom would also have some, so he justified that he was cutting it up for both of us.
So, for Father's Day this year -- my first without my father -- I want to list things he used to do with me and for me.
It's not a complete list. I can see this as something to which I return again and again.
THINGS WITH DAD
Dad used to cut up my summer sausage.
A Sense of Doubt blog post #2681 - Happy Father's Day 2022
Yes, I know that Father's Day was two days ago, but that was COMIC BOOK SUNDAY and Juneteenth, and I wanted to wait to share this post as it's a special Father's Day.
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It's not a complete list. I can see this as something to which I return again and again.
THINGS WITH DAD
Dad used to cut up my summer sausage.
Dad helped me with house projects, like power washing, deck staining, or minor repairs.
Dad used to do all the gluing of things that were broken.
I used to share many of my comic books with Dad, and he would read them.
Around the age of 10, he would throw a baseball with me when he got home from work (after he changed his clothes).
I would consult with Dad on anything house or life related, such as insulation, leaks, humidifiers, or car repairs, often proactively.
Dad bought me my first comic book and read it to me before bed, a tradition that went on for several years.
Multiple times, Dad and I resurfaced the West Gull Lake Drive house driveway with asphalt.
Dad spent a whole week with me around the time of my sister's birth, giving me one gift a day, and taking me to all these special fun things (like the huge three dip slide on Gull Road) so that I would feel special when my sister was brought home and took up so much of my parents' attention.
Without Dad's income and major project with Bronson Hospital, I would not have attended Kalamazoo College without student debt.
Dad and I insulated the entire West Gull Lake Drive house.
Dad let me ride on his shoulders to my first rock concert -- David Cassidy -- the day after I fell off the roof because my feet her very much.
Saturday, April 26, 2025
Dad let me sit on his shoulders throughout my second rock concert -- Osmonds -- to see over the crowd.
Dad helped me buy or bought for me four of my first five cars.
When the septic tank overflowed at the West Gull Lake Drive house, I helped Dad carry sewage water out of the laundry room in buckets until we got the problem under control.
The way my Dad sacrificed everything in life to care for my Mom for 15 years following her coma is the single most impressive thing I have ever seen a human being do for another human being. Love is real. Love is sacrifice. Kindness is all.
Dad drove all the way west when we moved and drove the dogs from Michigan except for the first stretch from Kalamazoo to Luddington that I drove.
Dad and I did many things together shortly after Mom died, like going to the Abbott's Magic Get Together, The American Museum of Magic, Traverse City, Tigers and Pistons games, a WMU football and basketball game, and so much more.
I saw Dad cry for the first time at a child psychology appointment where we went because I was being bullied at school. I had said that I did not know that he loved me. We cried together, and he assured me that he loved me. It was much later, as an adult, that I understood that he showed his love in all the sacrifices he made and all the time he made for his family.
I have never seen anyone work as hard as my Dad at EVERYTHING.
I coined the nickname Big Guy, or BG, or Beej, for my Dad inspired by what Herb Tarlek used to call Arthur Carlson on WKRP in Cincinnati.
Dad would listen to me when I called and had to process some anxiety, even when he was too tired to say much in response.
Dad decorated a birthday cake for me for many years, even into my adult years.
Dad defended me against bullies at a high school football game when I was in fourth grade.
When I climbed 100+ feet up the sheer vertical alongside large rock formations on Mackinac Island, Dad climbed up to help me back down.
When I visited Michigan, the year before Dad passed away, I told him many of the things I had kept secret from him my whole life. He was okay with it all and wasn't angry.
When Dad visited me, two years before he passed away, I caught him when he fell one of the three times.
When Dad took his last breath, I was holding his hand as I had been for the last few hours of his life.
FATHER'S DAY 2025
First Father's Day without Dad.
First Father's Day without Dad.
Lots to remember and reflect on. It's sad, but it's full of happy memories.
Thanks for tuning in.
I do not always make posts for Father's Day. Looks like the last one I did was in 2022. And before that in 2020.
Thanks for tuning in.
I do not always make posts for Father's Day. Looks like the last one I did was in 2022. And before that in 2020.
Tuesday, June 21, 2022
A Sense of Doubt blog post #2681 - Happy Father's Day 2022
Yes, I know that Father's Day was two days ago, but that was COMIC BOOK SUNDAY and Juneteenth, and I wanted to wait to share this post as it's a special Father's Day.
Seen here in the above photo at Taste of Kalamazoo in the late 1980s or early 1990s, my Dad is coming to visit for the first time, essentially.
He was first here in 2017 when he helped me drive the dogs across the country (he did virtually all the driving) and then stayed a few days in what was our Woodland home on Blacktail Lane.
I have not see Dad in person since September of 2019 when I was back in Kalamazoo for a wedding, one we won't speak of given recent events, and it was December of 2018 since the last time I stayed with him and saw his condo, which he moved out of and sold to my sister in August of 2020.
Dad arrives on the 25th, the day before his birthday, and stays until the day after the sixth anniversary of Mom's death, July 5th.
Dad arrives on the 25th, the day before his birthday, and stays until the day after the sixth anniversary of Mom's death, July 5th.
I am very excited to show him our new home, show him around the places I have grown to love here in PDX, and spend quality time with him.
Because of his arrival, I extended the "blog vacation" until after he leaves, which may be more of a norm when I return to "normal" production. I like the rotation of THAT ONE THING, reprints, and simple shares. If I can keep that rotation going with longer posts with my original work interspersed and maybe a HODGE PODGE only once a month as those are time consuming, then maybe, the blog is more manageable.
In any case, when Dad is here, I plan to abandon that rotation and serve up a series of old photos and memories. I may even log some original content as I have discussions with Dad about what he remembers of our lives.
Because of his arrival, I extended the "blog vacation" until after he leaves, which may be more of a norm when I return to "normal" production. I like the rotation of THAT ONE THING, reprints, and simple shares. If I can keep that rotation going with longer posts with my original work interspersed and maybe a HODGE PODGE only once a month as those are time consuming, then maybe, the blog is more manageable.
In any case, when Dad is here, I plan to abandon that rotation and serve up a series of old photos and memories. I may even log some original content as I have discussions with Dad about what he remembers of our lives.
This post celebrates my Dad, the Big Guy, RBT, the best Dad I know.
Thanks for tuning in.
The rest, originally published in:
Sunday, June 21, 2020
Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #1202 (SoD #1951) - Happy Father's Day 2020
Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #1202 (SoD #1951) - Happy Father's Day 2020
Hi Mom,
It's a Sunday. This is supposed to be my one day off every week, but I am still working because I have final grades due tomorrow, even though it's Father's Day as well as "Selfcare Sunday."
AND I had not yet posted yesterday's post because I am still rocked over the news about WARREN ELLIS. I am probably going to mention the Warren Ellis thing in every post I make for at least a week. It's upsetting me that much, especially when reading a bunch of posts on Twitter urging for "cancel culture" in regards to Warren Ellis, which I think is unwarranted. (heh - warren - warranted).
Not that consequences are not in order.
Anyway...
I am grateful for my Dad, who would never be accused of the things of which Warren has been accused. And that's not even the nicest thing I can say about Dad, right Mom?
It's Father's Day. I called. He wished me a happy day as I am by definition a step-father, though I do not feel very involved in that role lately, so it's okay that no one else has acknowledged it.
Given that I am deep in grades, I am keeping this short with the new material and just indulging in a reprint of the content I created in 2018. I did not do a Father's Day post last year and just did one at his birthday, which will be this Friday, when I will reprint that content, too, with new commentary.
I am grateful for Dad, the Big Guy, and I miss him in a different way than I miss you, Mom, given that I could go see him and be with him if not for the pandemic, in which soon over 120K people will have died.
Things are crazy right now, Mom, I am kind of glad you're not here to see it.
And on that upbeat note, Happy Father's Day to all, and here's my tribute to my truly amazing father.
REPRINT OF - Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #1077 - Happy Father's Day 2018
Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #1077 - Happy Father's Day 2018
Hi Mom,
It's Father's Day, and for the first time in my life, I am not in the same state with my father on Father's Day.
I am not alone in expressing Happy Father's Day wishes on this day, and declaring publicly how much I love my father and how I think he is so great.
So, today, in dedication to a great guy and a great father -- who I call the BG or Big Guy -- here are two of my favorite posts about my Dad and a link to all my Dad related posts on this blog.
NOTE on photos: Still working with my Dad on getting him to SMILE in pictures. Isn't it nicer when he does?
To all the great fathers I know (and I know many), Happy Father's Day!
HEY MOM - STUFF WITH DAD CATEGORY
Originally -
http://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2017/06/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-723-me-and.html
Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #723 - Me and Dad - My 7th Birthday - Jan. 1969 Throwback Thursday 1706.29 - photo series one #25 - Taking Again - Conversations #12
Hi Mom,
At first, I thought this was a black and white photo. But then I saw the yellow on the clown candle, and I realized that this is just a very washed out color photo. I do not have that many pictures of Dad let alone me and Dad as he was usually taking the picture. This picture is from the Schoolcraft house, which I barely remember at all. I have lost a lot of details of it, and I am not sure we have that many pictures of it, inside or out.
I cannot make it much of the food on the table. Was I into scalloped potatoes yet at 7 years? Is that corn and some other vegetable in the double dish? Did I like spinach yet? And what's on the big tray? I somehow doubt I was a steak eater at seven. And that would be A LOT of steak.
I like seeing the I am already in my pajamas.
So, that's the photo analysis, Mom. Hi again. Time for some conversations as I pledged to return to the stream of consciousness talking to you thing, which is the whole point of this blog in the first place.
I didn't finish this on the day it's date and time stamped (June 29th). It's now June 30th.
I will probably keep this one somewhat short as there's lots to do today.
So, I shared this content in an email about getting our house ready to sell:
And then, in another email, a friend asked if I will graduate and the status of my schooling. Here's what I wrote:
I could go on at length, but I need to be done with this entry.
Sure, I have tons to share, but this is a short "phone" conversation, Mom.
But in recap, I did take the comics to Fanfare and earned some nice store credit. I had a good outcome with the dental work. I had a nice therapy appointment talking about how I am managing stress, which I am doing fairly well.
I will write more next week. Next Tuesday is the two year anniversary of your death; next Thursday, the next Throwback Thursday, will be the two year anniversary of starting this blog feature writing to you, Mom.
That feels significant.
- Days ago = 725 days ago
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1706.29 - 10:10
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originally -
http://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2016/06/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-355-dads.html
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Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #355 - Dad's birthday, the big guy, t-shirt reprint
Hi Mom,
Dad's birthday today, Mom. I considered new content, but with our all day power washing yesterday and a church outing followed by brunch at Faye's today, I need to bear down and finish this last week's work. So, here's content about Dad, ORIGINALLY PRESENTED in T-shirt #233.
I love you, Big Guy.
You're the best. Happy 81st birthday.
T-shirt #233: Tower Pinkster Titus Associates Architects
I write a lot about heroes on this blog: super heroes, music heroes, sports heroes, and a few others not easily classified. But if I am being honest, the greatest heroes in my life are my family members: my parents, my Wife, my Step-kids, my Sister, assorted cousins, and some deceased folks. Today's blog will be about one such person who is a super hero to me: my Father, Robert Tower.
My Father worked for most of his life in an architectural firm that still bears his name. When we came to town, the firm was called Stapert, Pratt, and Sprau. Soon, it was called Stapert, Pratt, Sprau, and Tower. Soon after, Stapert, Pratt, Sprau, Tower, and Pinkster, and then eventually, it bears the name as seen in the t-shirt: Tower, Pinkster, Titus Associates - Architects, Engineers, and Interior Designers, better known as TPTA.. After these principals retired, the firm decided to keep the name, abbreviated to just Tower Pinkster, as that's all that people usually remembered of it anyway. The featured shirt displays my favorite TPTA logo. I really like the black and white pattern set off by the contrast of the red dot. I am so proud to be the son of such a prestigious and career-accomplished architect like my Father.
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Given what my Dad has meant to my life, this shirt should have come up sooner. But the shirts are not ranked.
There's no meaning to why it did not appear until shirt 233. Mainly, we needed time to arrange for the pictures at the current Tower Pinkster location and to have lunch in Sushiya, which is downstairs.
Of all the heroes I can name, my Dad is in the upper echelon, the top tier, the best of the best. I love my Dad. I know that such a statement is not all that original. Sons are supposed to love their fathers. But I am not trying to be original, and I am not interested in doing what I am "supposed to do." I love my Dad very much, and I think he is an extraordinary human being, a great father, and a wonderful husband.
In my sophomore year of college, I took a course in the autobiography at Kalamazoo College, taught by Gail Griffin. I did not do a very good job on my final autobiography project. I had many things happening in my life that quarter that caused distractions. But I did produce some forty pages of story about my life in very rough form, and then, much to Gail's chagrin, I corrected the manuscript in red pen before I submitted this mess to her. Somehow, she read it all. I am amazed by that. As a teacher now myself, I would have returned it to the student unread with a note: "don't waste my time with unprofessional products." But Gail did not do that. She read it, and she felt that my exhortations and grand pronouncements of love for my Father hid a deeper layer of issues with him, with authority, and flaws in our relationship. At the time, I was deeply offended. Who was this person to tell me that I may not be truthful about my feelings toward my Father? Ridiculous. Not everyone has troubles with his/her parents. Some of us actually get along with our parents, live a good life not a dysfunctional one. I do think Gail had identified some pent up feelings that I had not examined too closely. But I also feel that everything I wrote was true: I do love my Father, and I think he's the best father in the whole world.
Is he perfect? No. But then, who is perfect? Robert Tower tried very hard to be perfect and few could match his exacting standards for himself, and so it was impossible to be better at things than he was. He was always busier than any of us and yet able to do more and meet his obligations better. My Dad followed through. My Dad improved on his father's way of fathering. My Dad was the best dad he could be, and our relationship has grown so much throughout my life that I am definitely closer to him now, even though we have always been close.
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As I have become a kind of father myself (sort of a father), a step-father, I have grown much, MUCH more appreciative for the kind of father my Father is. I see so much of him in myself, and I always think about how he handled situations with me and our family as I try to determine how to handle situations with my step-kids and with my wife. I do make improvements. My Dad did not handle every situation perfectly. But the few quibbles I would make of his handling of me and our family are things that have changed about him in the man he is today. And the man he is today is even more extraordinary than the man of my childhood.
My childhood was idyllic. There were wrestling matches. In one, I scratched his cornea with my foot. In another, he broke his hand (or this might be the same one; he may have broken his hand when he slammed it on the floor pissed that I scratched his cornea). He scratched his cornea again getting an icicle for me off the roof that fell into his eye. I guess I think of these injuries of my father's because they are endemic of his sacrifice and his commitment to our family. So there's also the tailbone injury and the hatchet to the leg injury, and the falling off the roof injury, but I will save these for another time.
But there were plenty of times without injury, too. School projects, like the racing car derby, various science projects with displays aided by his art, and when I started doing magic, we constructed many things, including an elaborate table/storage cabinet with a large dragon cutout of wood and painted bright orange on the front (to be featured in a future blog post). My Dad served as Cub Scout pack leader, for which there were camp outs, projects, sales of Christmas trees, and supervision of meetings. My Father interceded on my behalf when I was being bullied. My Father bought me comic books and read me my first comic books as a small child. And even beyond comic books, he (and my Mother, too) engineered my love of reading with so many books and story times. My love of science fiction comes to me from my Father. My first science fiction book that I tried to read (The Andromeda Strain) in fourth grade came from my Father. Many of the science fiction books I gave him for Christmas and birthdays have become mine and are treasured possessions. There were hugs, family dinners, and glorious vacations. I cannot even describe all the wonderful times and the many memories I cherish in just this one paragraph (and with 132 t-shirts to go in my year, I figure I can come back to this subject).
Throughout my childhood, and in the formative years of college and thereafter, my Father was always there for me. There's so much to say about this, too much. Though he was busy, he always made time for me. When I got into a jam (and I got into a lot of them), my Father bailed me out (quite literally in one case). My Father helped me buy (or bought for me) cars and so many of the things I cherish most: holiday gifts, my stereo, my camera, my bed (now Ivan's), and especially his old college winter coat, which I wore for many years until it was too small.
I am not sure I can ever repay my Father for all his favors, kindness, generosity, and love let alone the money he actually asked me to repay. And college. Because he was then President of TPTA and Bronson Hospital was the firm's biggest client, he was able to pay for my college education at Kalamazoo College, for which I am forever grateful.
Until recently (when he has become more weepy), I had only seen my Father cry twice. The first time was in a therapy session when I was a child. We met with a therapist because I was being bullied at school. The therapist hit on the fact that though my Father showed his love for me in a million ways, he did not say he loved me. And so the therapist made sure he said it in the session. When I revealed that I was not sure that he did love me, he cried. I was deeply touched to see him cry. More touched on his second cry, which will be described in the next paragraph, but one more thought here before I move on: the guilt trips he inflicted on his family, especially my mother, was the part of the cause for her eventual therapy and now mine. Though this was (not so much anymore) one of his few character flaws, as flaws go, it's not a terrible one to have.
I saw my father cry for only the second time in my life when, in the year 2000, our family was rocked and everything changed. My Mother contracted Bacterial Meningitis. Her heart stopped. She stopped breathing. She had to be brought back. She fell into a coma for nine days. When she woke, after surgery, she had lost all use of her left arm and nearly all use of both of legs. Once the finality of what had happened hit my father, I saw him weep, as much as he was trying to be strong, to hold it in. I had never loved my father more than I did at that moment. Throughout his life, in every action, every moment, he showed me how to be an impeccable husband and father, a good man. I am not sure if I measure up to his standards even now, but I have his example to compare with, and I try very hard.
Now, my Father is retired from the firm, and he is my Mother's full-time caregiver as she cannot bathe herself, cannot dress herself, and may not be able to continue to feed herself (though for now she does all right). My Father was known by the ICU nurses at Bronson (where my mother stayed for three months from March-June of 2000) as Saint Bob. The care he gives my Mother is an extraordinary feat of patience and love. I am awed by his commitment to my Mother and our family, and though I may never repay him for all he has given me, I try to support him as much as I am able (as does my sister and our third "child," and "adopted" sister Melanie). The picture above shows a proud moment for my Father as my Mother was awarded a Paul Harris Fellowship by Kalamazoo Rotary, which is quite an honor and a distinction.
Back in June, my Father turned 78 years old, and he is still caring for my Mother, doing architectural side jobs, and running a household. He is an inspiration.
My Father is my rock. Thankfully, now that I am married, he is not my only rock or my number one rock since that distinction belongs to my wife. But I would not be able to get along without him. I rely on him a great deal. He still helps me often with my new role as husband, father, and home-owner. And in return, I try to help him as much as I possibly can. It's never enough. Those old guilt trips still linger, but they are not too onerous.
No short essay about the greatness of my Father would be complete without pictures of his shop. Though I did not talk much about his anal tendencies in this essay, these pictures speak volumes about that subject.
I love you, Dad.
Please live to be over 100 years old, so that we have many, many more years together. :-)
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- chris tower - 1311.09 - 9:55
- Days ago = 357 days ago
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1606.26 - 10:10
- Days ago = 1079 days ago
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1806.17 - 10:10
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Reflect and connect.
Have someone give you a kiss, and tell you that I love you, Mom.
I miss you so very much, Mom.
Talk to you soon, Mom.
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- Days ago = 1815 days ago
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 2006.21 - 10:10
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- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 2206.21 - 10:10
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Blog Vacation Two 2022 - Vacation II Post #117
I took a "Blog Vacation" in 2021 from August 31st to October 14th. I did not stop posting daily; I just put the blog in a low power rotation and mostly kept it off social media. Like that vacation, for this second blog vacation now in 2022, I am alternating between reprints, shares with little to no commentary, and THAT ONE THING, which is an image from the folder with a few thoughts scribbled along with it. I am alternating these three modes as long as the vacation lasts (not sure how long), pre-publishing the posts, and not always pushing them to social media.
Here's the collected Blog Vacation I from 2021:
Saturday, October 16, 2021
Sunday, June 21, 2020
Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #1202 (SoD #1951) - Happy Father's Day 2020
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| Tigers Opening Day 2016 - https://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2016/04/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-276-tigers.html |
Hi Mom,
It's a Sunday. This is supposed to be my one day off every week, but I am still working because I have final grades due tomorrow, even though it's Father's Day as well as "Selfcare Sunday."
AND I had not yet posted yesterday's post because I am still rocked over the news about WARREN ELLIS. I am probably going to mention the Warren Ellis thing in every post I make for at least a week. It's upsetting me that much, especially when reading a bunch of posts on Twitter urging for "cancel culture" in regards to Warren Ellis, which I think is unwarranted. (heh - warren - warranted).
Not that consequences are not in order.
Anyway...
I am grateful for my Dad, who would never be accused of the things of which Warren has been accused. And that's not even the nicest thing I can say about Dad, right Mom?
It's Father's Day. I called. He wished me a happy day as I am by definition a step-father, though I do not feel very involved in that role lately, so it's okay that no one else has acknowledged it.
Given that I am deep in grades, I am keeping this short with the new material and just indulging in a reprint of the content I created in 2018. I did not do a Father's Day post last year and just did one at his birthday, which will be this Friday, when I will reprint that content, too, with new commentary.
I am grateful for Dad, the Big Guy, and I miss him in a different way than I miss you, Mom, given that I could go see him and be with him if not for the pandemic, in which soon over 120K people will have died.
Things are crazy right now, Mom, I am kind of glad you're not here to see it.
And on that upbeat note, Happy Father's Day to all, and here's my tribute to my truly amazing father.
REPRINT OF - Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #1077 - Happy Father's Day 2018
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| Me and Dad in my new home - taken 1708.29 - 16:30 |
Hi Mom,
It's Father's Day, and for the first time in my life, I am not in the same state with my father on Father's Day.
I am not alone in expressing Happy Father's Day wishes on this day, and declaring publicly how much I love my father and how I think he is so great.
So, today, in dedication to a great guy and a great father -- who I call the BG or Big Guy -- here are two of my favorite posts about my Dad and a link to all my Dad related posts on this blog.
NOTE on photos: Still working with my Dad on getting him to SMILE in pictures. Isn't it nicer when he does?
To all the great fathers I know (and I know many), Happy Father's Day!
HEY MOM - STUFF WITH DAD CATEGORY
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| me and the Big Guy - Sunday - 1712.17 |
http://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2017/06/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-723-me-and.html
Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #723 - Me and Dad - My 7th Birthday - Jan. 1969 Throwback Thursday 1706.29 - photo series one #25 - Taking Again - Conversations #12
Hi Mom,
At first, I thought this was a black and white photo. But then I saw the yellow on the clown candle, and I realized that this is just a very washed out color photo. I do not have that many pictures of Dad let alone me and Dad as he was usually taking the picture. This picture is from the Schoolcraft house, which I barely remember at all. I have lost a lot of details of it, and I am not sure we have that many pictures of it, inside or out.
I cannot make it much of the food on the table. Was I into scalloped potatoes yet at 7 years? Is that corn and some other vegetable in the double dish? Did I like spinach yet? And what's on the big tray? I somehow doubt I was a steak eater at seven. And that would be A LOT of steak.
I like seeing the I am already in my pajamas.
So, that's the photo analysis, Mom. Hi again. Time for some conversations as I pledged to return to the stream of consciousness talking to you thing, which is the whole point of this blog in the first place.
I didn't finish this on the day it's date and time stamped (June 29th). It's now June 30th.
I will probably keep this one somewhat short as there's lots to do today.
So, I shared this content in an email about getting our house ready to sell:
Painting is more or less done with still one thing for next week. Shower may not be installed until after the house sells. Chimney cap is on. Looks nice. We're working hard on situating and getting ready to show. I wanted to truck a bunch of stuff to Dad's with a trailer this week, but I had a huge mix up with U-Haul. I am concerned about the much smaller sq footage of our new home and the lack of a basement. So Dad is getting a lot of stuff that I may ultimately keep, if I have space, or get ride of when I visit. My first few visits will be dealing with my stuff. But I am already culling out things to get rid of. I am taking comics to Fanfare today. Not many, but some. It's all a process.
The painting has been the best and smartest thing we did. It really looks great.
And then, in another email, a friend asked if I will graduate and the status of my schooling. Here's what I wrote:
I will not graduate. I was never for sure getting another degree. Mainly, I was taking classes to go to grad school, which I may do, but for now, I am going off the traditional education route and plan to hit a MOOC and then a coding boot camp and then, yeah, try for one of the many coding jobs in the Pacific NW. Even though I am not in class now, I am working with a tutor to make sure I know C and Java. Then I am hitting Python and Javascript and maybe Ruby/Ruby on Rails. It's all the same, really, just different lingo. Computers are just all input-output. That's really all it is.
But yeah. the hope is that if we make enough of the sale of this house to send me to Coding Dojo, then I land a sweet job and we are not house poor and suffering the higher cost of living.
I could go on at length, but I need to be done with this entry.
Sure, I have tons to share, but this is a short "phone" conversation, Mom.
But in recap, I did take the comics to Fanfare and earned some nice store credit. I had a good outcome with the dental work. I had a nice therapy appointment talking about how I am managing stress, which I am doing fairly well.
I will write more next week. Next Tuesday is the two year anniversary of your death; next Thursday, the next Throwback Thursday, will be the two year anniversary of starting this blog feature writing to you, Mom.
That feels significant.
- Days ago = 725 days ago
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1706.29 - 10:10
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originally -
http://sensedoubt.blogspot.com/2016/06/hey-mom-talking-to-my-mother-355-dads.html
Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #355 - Dad's birthday, the big guy, t-shirt reprint
Hi Mom,
Dad's birthday today, Mom. I considered new content, but with our all day power washing yesterday and a church outing followed by brunch at Faye's today, I need to bear down and finish this last week's work. So, here's content about Dad, ORIGINALLY PRESENTED in T-shirt #233.
I love you, Big Guy.
You're the best. Happy 81st birthday.
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T-shirt #233: Tower Pinkster Titus Associates Architects
I write a lot about heroes on this blog: super heroes, music heroes, sports heroes, and a few others not easily classified. But if I am being honest, the greatest heroes in my life are my family members: my parents, my Wife, my Step-kids, my Sister, assorted cousins, and some deceased folks. Today's blog will be about one such person who is a super hero to me: my Father, Robert Tower.My Father worked for most of his life in an architectural firm that still bears his name. When we came to town, the firm was called Stapert, Pratt, and Sprau. Soon, it was called Stapert, Pratt, Sprau, and Tower. Soon after, Stapert, Pratt, Sprau, Tower, and Pinkster, and then eventually, it bears the name as seen in the t-shirt: Tower, Pinkster, Titus Associates - Architects, Engineers, and Interior Designers, better known as TPTA.. After these principals retired, the firm decided to keep the name, abbreviated to just Tower Pinkster, as that's all that people usually remembered of it anyway. The featured shirt displays my favorite TPTA logo. I really like the black and white pattern set off by the contrast of the red dot. I am so proud to be the son of such a prestigious and career-accomplished architect like my Father..jpg)
There's no meaning to why it did not appear until shirt 233. Mainly, we needed time to arrange for the pictures at the current Tower Pinkster location and to have lunch in Sushiya, which is downstairs.
Of all the heroes I can name, my Dad is in the upper echelon, the top tier, the best of the best. I love my Dad. I know that such a statement is not all that original. Sons are supposed to love their fathers. But I am not trying to be original, and I am not interested in doing what I am "supposed to do." I love my Dad very much, and I think he is an extraordinary human being, a great father, and a wonderful husband.
In my sophomore year of college, I took a course in the autobiography at Kalamazoo College, taught by Gail Griffin. I did not do a very good job on my final autobiography project. I had many things happening in my life that quarter that caused distractions. But I did produce some forty pages of story about my life in very rough form, and then, much to Gail's chagrin, I corrected the manuscript in red pen before I submitted this mess to her. Somehow, she read it all. I am amazed by that. As a teacher now myself, I would have returned it to the student unread with a note: "don't waste my time with unprofessional products." But Gail did not do that. She read it, and she felt that my exhortations and grand pronouncements of love for my Father hid a deeper layer of issues with him, with authority, and flaws in our relationship. At the time, I was deeply offended. Who was this person to tell me that I may not be truthful about my feelings toward my Father? Ridiculous. Not everyone has troubles with his/her parents. Some of us actually get along with our parents, live a good life not a dysfunctional one. I do think Gail had identified some pent up feelings that I had not examined too closely. But I also feel that everything I wrote was true: I do love my Father, and I think he's the best father in the whole world.Is he perfect? No. But then, who is perfect? Robert Tower tried very hard to be perfect and few could match his exacting standards for himself, and so it was impossible to be better at things than he was. He was always busier than any of us and yet able to do more and meet his obligations better. My Dad followed through. My Dad improved on his father's way of fathering. My Dad was the best dad he could be, and our relationship has grown so much throughout my life that I am definitely closer to him now, even though we have always been close.
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As I have become a kind of father myself (sort of a father), a step-father, I have grown much, MUCH more appreciative for the kind of father my Father is. I see so much of him in myself, and I always think about how he handled situations with me and our family as I try to determine how to handle situations with my step-kids and with my wife. I do make improvements. My Dad did not handle every situation perfectly. But the few quibbles I would make of his handling of me and our family are things that have changed about him in the man he is today. And the man he is today is even more extraordinary than the man of my childhood.
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| Christmas 2000 |
But there were plenty of times without injury, too. School projects, like the racing car derby, various science projects with displays aided by his art, and when I started doing magic, we constructed many things, including an elaborate table/storage cabinet with a large dragon cutout of wood and painted bright orange on the front (to be featured in a future blog post). My Dad served as Cub Scout pack leader, for which there were camp outs, projects, sales of Christmas trees, and supervision of meetings. My Father interceded on my behalf when I was being bullied. My Father bought me comic books and read me my first comic books as a small child. And even beyond comic books, he (and my Mother, too) engineered my love of reading with so many books and story times. My love of science fiction comes to me from my Father. My first science fiction book that I tried to read (The Andromeda Strain) in fourth grade came from my Father. Many of the science fiction books I gave him for Christmas and birthdays have become mine and are treasured possessions. There were hugs, family dinners, and glorious vacations. I cannot even describe all the wonderful times and the many memories I cherish in just this one paragraph (and with 132 t-shirts to go in my year, I figure I can come back to this subject).
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| My Mom and Dad, Wedding Photo, 1958 |
I am not sure I can ever repay my Father for all his favors, kindness, generosity, and love let alone the money he actually asked me to repay. And college. Because he was then President of TPTA and Bronson Hospital was the firm's biggest client, he was able to pay for my college education at Kalamazoo College, for which I am forever grateful.
Until recently (when he has become more weepy), I had only seen my Father cry twice. The first time was in a therapy session when I was a child. We met with a therapist because I was being bullied at school. The therapist hit on the fact that though my Father showed his love for me in a million ways, he did not say he loved me. And so the therapist made sure he said it in the session. When I revealed that I was not sure that he did love me, he cried. I was deeply touched to see him cry. More touched on his second cry, which will be described in the next paragraph, but one more thought here before I move on: the guilt trips he inflicted on his family, especially my mother, was the part of the cause for her eventual therapy and now mine. Though this was (not so much anymore) one of his few character flaws, as flaws go, it's not a terrible one to have.
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| Rotary 2006 |
Now, my Father is retired from the firm, and he is my Mother's full-time caregiver as she cannot bathe herself, cannot dress herself, and may not be able to continue to feed herself (though for now she does all right). My Father was known by the ICU nurses at Bronson (where my mother stayed for three months from March-June of 2000) as Saint Bob. The care he gives my Mother is an extraordinary feat of patience and love. I am awed by his commitment to my Mother and our family, and though I may never repay him for all he has given me, I try to support him as much as I am able (as does my sister and our third "child," and "adopted" sister Melanie). The picture above shows a proud moment for my Father as my Mother was awarded a Paul Harris Fellowship by Kalamazoo Rotary, which is quite an honor and a distinction.
Back in June, my Father turned 78 years old, and he is still caring for my Mother, doing architectural side jobs, and running a household. He is an inspiration.
My Father is my rock. Thankfully, now that I am married, he is not my only rock or my number one rock since that distinction belongs to my wife. But I would not be able to get along without him. I rely on him a great deal. He still helps me often with my new role as husband, father, and home-owner. And in return, I try to help him as much as I possibly can. It's never enough. Those old guilt trips still linger, but they are not too onerous.
No short essay about the greatness of my Father would be complete without pictures of his shop. Though I did not talk much about his anal tendencies in this essay, these pictures speak volumes about that subject.
I love you, Dad.
Please live to be over 100 years old, so that we have many, many more years together. :-)
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- chris tower - 1311.09 - 9:55
- Days ago = 357 days ago
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1606.26 - 10:10
- Days ago = 1079 days ago
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1806.17 - 10:10
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Reflect and connect.
Have someone give you a kiss, and tell you that I love you, Mom.
I miss you so very much, Mom.
Talk to you soon, Mom.
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- Days ago = 1815 days ago
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 2006.21 - 10:10
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- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 2206.21 - 10:10
- Days ago = 2545 days ago
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- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 2506.15 - 10:10
- Days ago: MOM = 3636 days ago & DAD = 290 days ago
- New note - On 1807.06, I ceased daily transmission of my Hey Mom feature after three years of daily conversations. I post Hey Mom blog entries on special occasions. I post the days since ("Days Ago") count on my blog each day, and now I have a second count for Days since my Dad died on August 28, 2024. I am now in the same time zone as Google! So, when I post at 10:10 a.m. PDT to coincide with the time of Mom's death, I am now actually posting late, so it's really 1:10 p.m. EDT. But I will continue to use the time stamp of 10:10 a.m. to remember the time of her death and sometimes 13:40 EDT for the time of Dad's death. The blog entry numbering in the title has changed to reflect total Sense of Doubt posts since I began the blog on 0705.04, which include Hey Mom posts, Daily Bowie posts, and Sense of Doubt posts. Hey Mom posts will still be numbered sequentially. New Hey Mom posts will use the same format as all the other Hey Mom posts; all other posts will feature this format seen here.
- Days ago: MOM = 3636 days ago & DAD = 290 days ago
- New note - On 1807.06, I ceased daily transmission of my Hey Mom feature after three years of daily conversations. I post Hey Mom blog entries on special occasions. I post the days since ("Days Ago") count on my blog each day, and now I have a second count for Days since my Dad died on August 28, 2024. I am now in the same time zone as Google! So, when I post at 10:10 a.m. PDT to coincide with the time of Mom's death, I am now actually posting late, so it's really 1:10 p.m. EDT. But I will continue to use the time stamp of 10:10 a.m. to remember the time of her death and sometimes 13:40 EDT for the time of Dad's death. The blog entry numbering in the title has changed to reflect total Sense of Doubt posts since I began the blog on 0705.04, which include Hey Mom posts, Daily Bowie posts, and Sense of Doubt posts. Hey Mom posts will still be numbered sequentially. New Hey Mom posts will use the same format as all the other Hey Mom posts; all other posts will feature this format seen here.
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