DISPATCHES FROM HOME: Were your Proud Dad? Father’s Day 2021

“I love you.” To my knowledge, my dear father never said these words to me. But did he love me? He was, after all, a man who grew up in hard times and lived with the limitations of a heart seared by childhood scarlet fever. During the Great Depression, when Dad was in his teens, his mother and father divorced, which sent his life into a tailspin. He had to leave the relative comfort of his life in Chicago and move south to poverty. When Dad turned eighteen, he joined the Marines and sailed off to help defeat Hirohito’s henchmen in the Pacific.

Like many fathers in the 1950s, my dad was a product of his father’s day and age. My grandfather, Frank August Kalberg, was born in August 1888. He was almost 40 when Dad was born. Born in the strict, corseted days of American Victorian society–when “men were men”–I doubt my grandfather ever told my father that he loved him. Like father, like son?

Love, true love, is more than just a souffle of sweet words and flowery phrases. True love is more concrete. Its foundation is a resolute fusion of constancy and stability, which helps create a home that’s a safe harbor from the world and its madness. Although my father’s father did not always provide that true love for him, my father did provide it for me. And for that, I’m forever grateful!

I’m not sure that I always pleased my father, but what son does? I know he would have been more pleased if I’d taken up “manly” things, such as football and the like. When it came to my years on the stage, I’m sure he would have chosen another venue for me had it been left up to him. Back in the day, I was so involved with theater. One year, I was in six shows back-to-back. I doubted Dad even notice. Did he? Was he proud?

Not long after Dad passed away in 1997, Mom and I were drinking coffee and remembering old times. I ask her if she thought Dad was proud of me. She smiled and told me this story. One day they were in the checkout line at a local supermarket. When the clerk saw our last name on the check Dad had written, the clerk lit up like a Christmas tree. “I just saw a guy in a show at the Saenger; he’s got your last name. Wow! That guy needs to be on Broadway! Is he related to you?” Mom said Dad smiled a big smile and said, “Yes…he’s my son!”

Did my dad ever say he loved me? No, he did not. But he didn’t have to, because without saying anything, I knew he did. His actions spoke louder than words. Those actions still touch my heart, and I’m thankful they do. I’m also grateful for the father with which my Heavenly Father blessed me. Happy Father’s Day, Dad! I miss you so much. But one day soon…