Color Him Father

Remember that song?

In several posts, I’ve made reference to my “step-father,” the guy that married my mom when I was nine. In reality, I almost never refer to him as my “step-father.” I’ve only done so here to differentiate him from the guy that gave me life and a name. Perhaps I should start referring to my “step-father” as “the guy who chose to become my father.” That, he did.

I‘ve been very blessed, in that I’ve had several fathers. None of them have been perfect. However, none of them have been arbiters of evil either. And the one who has given me the least amount of love is the one who is responsible for me being here. The other two chose me.

I’ve told the story of my origins and my uncle (yes, I’ve linked to it again). What I haven’t told is the story of the man who became my father in the course of time.

A tall, powerfully-built former college athlete—football and basketball—Johnny Ray presents a stark contrast to the athletes of this day: he’s reserved, soft-spoken, even taciturn at times. He’s never boisterous or boastful. However, he can sometimes exhibit an unexpected humor and playfulness, punctuated by an infectious, loud laugh. His specialty is the type of insight that comes unbidden, out of nowhere. The time when I saw the greatest joy on his face? That was when he was holding my oldest nephew—about nine months old at the time, now nearly thirteen years old and nearly six feet in height —in his arms.

Johnny Ray looks much the same as he did thirty or so years ago—except that his hair is now nearly totally gray. (Lucky him, he’s showing no signs of balding at age sixty-two.) I joke that one small patch of gray is me, another small patch is the sister next to me and the rest of it is my (step-)brother and our youngest sister. (Don’t ask.)

When the sister next to me—nine years my junior and Johnny Ray’s biological child—was eighteen, I told her the story about the day Johnny Ray and I met. She was fascinated. Of course, she knew that I was the product of our mother’s first marriage, but it was only an intellectual knowledge. Emotionally, she had always thought of Dad as our same father.

One day, when I was about four or five, my Mom said, “I’m going to take you to meet Johnny.” We went to his apartment and there he was: this towering, dark brown-skinned man. He didn’t make a big deal about me, as some are wont to do with small children. As I recall, he said something like, “hi, nice to meet you,” as if I were thirty. I like that, now as then. By the time a couple of years had rolled around, he was the apple of my eye.

We’ve definitely had our differences over these many years, but he’s nearly always willing to listen, and, nearly always, so am I. He once paid me this compliment: “You’re the only one of my children that ever listens to me.” Me, being the smart-mouth that I am, shot back: “That’s because those other ones are so much like you.” I’m not sure if it hurt his feelings or not, but I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I meant it in the way that when two people are so much alike, they can sometimes not “hear” each other. (Yes, Mom, that’s why it happens.) :-) Dad and I are very different and I think that it facilitates our “hearing” each other. I know it definitely did when I was a teenager. You know, ladies, that time when Mom is the enemy?

*****

Here’s one pertinent fact about my Dad: he is an awesome cook. He has run his own prosperous catering service for some years now, after many years of working for other people. (His specialty is blackened chicken. Yum!)

Now don’t mistake what I’m saying. Mom is also an excellent cook, but her husband is better; more imaginative. And I know that Mom knows this and is comfortable with it. She once said that Dad was a better cook because he enjoys it more than she does. And just to prove that some things are genetic, my brother is a trained and accomplished chef.

Here’s yet another pertinent fact about Johnny Ray: he is a strong, Bible-believing Christian. Oh, he wasn’t always so. As I mentioned to La Shawn in her comments, my immediate family were once members of the Nation of Islam. Yes, really. Things happened, years passed, and my Dad (and Mom) changed. Dad is now an associate pastor at his younger brother’s Methodist church.

When I look at how much my Dad has changed in the last twenty or so years, my own faith is strengthened. He went from being a good man--though one who often did what was right in his own eyes--to being a great one, who presents his decisions to the Father first, before making them.

*****

I know so many people, especially women, who have horribly ugly stories of “step-fathers.” I am sometimes astonished at how greatly I’ve been blessed with “men who have stepped into the breach” that my biological father vacated. If that is what is meant by the prefix “step-,” then Johnny Ray, as well as my Uncle John, certainly fit the bill.

Happy Father’s Day, Daddy. I love you.

Comments

[teal marie]

Lovely!

[CGHill]

And that is a great song; I still get a lump in my throat when the guy sings "Our real old man, he got killed in the war" and the realization dawns that it's the stepdad who's loved and admired.

[wesley J.]

Hope your Daddy reads this blog. You are both blessed, Juliette.

[bleedingbrain]

Nice post. Those who step into the breach are life-savers in many ways.

[La Shawn Barber]

It's a blessing to have a wonderful relationship with a father. You're probably closer to your step-father than I am to my father. The parents split up when I was a senior in college, but it was still traumatic. He and I were estranged for years and have grown closer only in the last few years, since I've become a Christian.

I often wonder if I would have been a different/better/worse person if my parents were still together. Or maybe it wouldn't make a difference at all. Things to ponder on Father's Day.

[ibejo]

As I have come to expect from you - what a great post! Your dad sonds wonderful and is lucky to have such a great daughter.

[irishlass]

COLOR HIM FATHER
Winstons

There's a man at my house he's so big and strong
He goes to work each day, stays all day long
He comes home each night looking tired and beat
He sits down at the dinner table and has a bite to eat
Never a frown always a smile
When he says to me how's my child
I've been studying hard all day in school
Tryin' to understand the golden rule

Think I'll color this man father
I think I'll color him love
Said I'm gonna color him father
I think I'll color the man love, yes I will

He says education is the thing if you wanna compete
Because without it son, life ain't very sweet
I love this man I don't know why
Except I'll need his strength till the day that I die
My mother loves him and I can tell
By the way she looks at him when he holds my little sister Nell
I heard her say just the other day
That if it hadn't been for him she wouldn't have found her way
My real old man he got killed in the war
And she knows she and seven kids couldn't of got very far
She said she thought that she could never love again
And then there he stood with that big wide grin
He married my mother and he took us in
And now we belong to the man with that big wide grin

Think I'll color this man father
I think I'll color him love
Said I'm gonna color him father
I think I'll color the man love, yes I will

[fiwit]

Thanks for posting the lyrics - dont think I"ve ever heard that song. But J's post reminds me of a country-western song called "He didn't have to be."
-------------------------------
He Didn't Have To Be
(Brad Paisley/Kelley Lovelace)

When a single mom goes out on a date with somebody new
It always winds up feeling more like a job interview
My momma used to wonder if she'd ever meet someone
Who wouldn't find out about me and then turn around and run

I met the man I call my dad when I was five years old
He took my mom out to a movie and for once I got to go
A few months later I remember lying there in bed
I overheard him pop the question and prayed that she'd say yes

And then all of a sudden
Oh, it seemed so strange to me
How we went from something's missing
To a family
Lookin' back all I can say
About all the things he did for me
Is I hope I'm at least half the dad
That he didn't have to be

I met the girl that's now my wife about three years ago
We had the perfect marriage but we wanted somethin' more
Now here I stand surrounded by our family and friends
Crowded 'round the nursery window as they bring the baby in

And now all of a sudden
It seemed so strange to me
How we've gone from something's missing
To a family
Lookin' through the glass I think about the man
That's standin' next to me
And I hope I'm at least half the dad
That he didn't have to be

Lookin' back all I can say
About all the things he did for me
Is I hope I'm at least half the dad
That he didn't have to be

Yeah, I hope I'm at least half the dad
That he didn't have to be
Because he didn't have to be
You know he didn't have to be

[Ginny]

:-) That's awesome. Happy Father's Day to All!

[Joe]

Any Dad would love to hear such nice things from his daughter, Juliette. That was terrific. I really liked the simple part at the end - same thing my girls told me. :)

[Da Goddess]

What a wonderful and moving tribute. How lucky you are to have someone like him in your life.