Discipline

I appreciate the quiet moments, a melancholy song, and solace.  Bringing memories of my father and his disciplined life — of my mother and her quiet power — my sisters when we all lived together and their importance when we were all under the same roof — our lives splintered as we left the nest to forge the path we are still on.  Thoughts of the  women in my life,  often melancholy as those roads sadly fade away.

It is quiet outside, dark and windless. I rather enjoy this desk where I listen and write. 

I visited my eldest daughter and her family over the weekend.  On a gray morning over coffee, we were reminiscing about my father as Sunday was his birthday.  She and I have many fond memories of my dad.  On this occasion we were discussing his discipline.  Maybe it is because she has young children and discipline always seems to be a topic around young children. However, this was not a discussion of “how to discipline” or “we disciplined the children”. That is the negative side of discipline or at least the not enjoyable part. Our discussion was about the memory of my father as someone who was disciplined and reliable.  It was his disciplined nature that made him so consistent.  He was dependable to do things in a certain way which is, of course,  a form of discipline.  He was present and available when engaging in a project or more importantly, engaging with my daughter as a young girl.  My daughter remembers her grandfather as disciplined in the sense of focused solely on her when they talked.  He was not a man whose eyes looked elsewhere, they focused on the subject at hand and for my daughter that was her.  He had some endearing quirks as one remembers when you share love for each other. 

A good example was his evening ritual when we were staying at a guest ranch for many Thanksgivings.  Guests stayed in separate cabins and our large family occupied several of them.  Dad would prepare himself for the evening meal in the dining room.  Dressed in shirt, tie, slacks, and a sport coat all of which his wife, my mother, had picked out.  Then he would go on his evening patrol and visit the cabins occupied by his son and daughters and many grandchildren.  He was just taking a moment for himself to connect individually before the chaotic dinner around a large table in the dining room where focusing was a challenge.  He was disciplined about this ritual and it is a memory that my daughter and I shared with great love.

His life was characterized by discipline.  It was an orderliness laced with exacting detail that made him reliable, present, and available.  She and I remember the occasions as the years went by of seeking advice and council from him because he would listen.  Never distracted his response was thoughtful and precise.  He was reassuring no matter what might have been personally distracting. His focus always superseded what ever personal disruption occupied his brilliant mind.

In our days of instability and doubt it is comforting to have the opportunity to consult with someone who has discipline.  A person who is completely present for you, treats you with kindness and respect, a person who without judgment gives you his or her best consideration for those things which trouble you the most --- a disciplined person.

Happy Birthday, Dad

Love Your Son and Your Granddaughter

On the occasion of a breakfast on a gray day 18 August 2024.