Stream of Conscience

Both my mother and father are on my list of heroes to write about this month.  They aren’t on the list because they were the best parents in the world, because they weren’t.  But they were two of the best people.

Ask anyone from the small town where I grew up.  (Just so you know I’m not being biased.)

My mother predeceased my father by a few years.  When we were planning her funeral, my father was so devastated (as was I), he was reluctant to have a visitation.  But the funeral director simply said, “Marge meant a lot to a lot of people.  This would give them a chance to say goodbye to her.”

When my dad passed away a few years later, I was hoping our church’s premiere tenor would sing at his funeral.  He and my dad had sung in the choir for many years, as had his son (and my classmate) Dave and I all throughout our high school years.  But Dave told me his father, who usually had no trouble, wouldn’t have been able to sing for Dad.  He was too close.

At the reception after the funeral, a woman came up to me and said, “Your parents were the best.  Your mother, too.”  The fact that she recognized how special they were, and mentioned my mother after the years had passed, validated my feelings.

Interestingly, I can’t remember the exact date either of them died.   Nor do I have any desire to look it up.  I prefer to celebrate the good times, their birthdays and wedding anniversary.

I made a list of heroes to discuss throughout the month as part of NaBloPoMo, but I don’t feel I’m ready to write about them yet.  Apparently I think posts about them need a lot of time and thought to do them justice.  I mean, they are my heroes, after all.  If I don’t write glowing words about them,  how will people know how special they are?  But that begs the question, is it necessary to  convince other people they’re wonderful?  Isn’t it enough to know they’ve made an impact on my life and for that I cherish them?  (Well, the real people at least.  The fictional characters, I don’t “cherish” so much, but they do make my life more enjoyable.)

So, let me babble a bit.  Take a look at the NaBloPoMo icon.  Do you know who it is?  If you do, you’re either 1) a baby boomer or older, or 2) a fan of retro-tv.  For me, McHale’s Navy was part of my formative years.  It was one of the television shows my family watched religiously.  My dad had been a Navy officer during World War II, and while he’d long been out of the military by the time I was born,  his service is one of my earliest memories of him.  And I remember him laughing hysterically at the show.

At that time (and for many years afterwards), I never thought I’d follow in his footsteps.  I don’t think his service was a big factor in my choosing the Navy over the other services.  In fact, when I’d thought about joining the military, he’d actually recommended the Air Force.  He thought it was a more modern service.  But all I could remember of the Air Force was my brother having been stationed at Forbes Air Force Base in Topeka, Kansas.  That wasn’t for me.  I’d much rather have been stationed near the water.  The other deciding factor was that, as an audiologist, I’d have gone into the Air Forces’s equivalent of the Medical Service Corps.  At least the Navy gave me the option of going MSC or as a Line Officer.  I chose the more difficult one.  And I’ve never regretted it.