Streets for People / A Father’s Gift of Time

After a two-month battle with Covid and pneumonia last summer my 88-year-old Dad, Robert Hamilton passed away on September 22. As Father’s Day approaches,  for the first time I won’t be picking out a card, sending lobster rolls and a blueberry pie or visiting. So, this year I’m paying tribute by sharing the insert (below) I put in a card for Father’s Day in 2022. I was lucky to find he’d saved it. If your Dad is alive, make sure he knows how you feel. Happy Father’s Day to all the fathers, here and in heaven.

“Time

Happy Father’s Day Dad!

I sent you a card that said something like one of the greatest gifts you gave me was the gift of your time. I really wanted to pick a funny card out. Something with a beer or lawnmower or dog. But I settled for this boring card because I had recently been thinking about just that subject. Time.

So, I should have written this inside the card, but I’m kinda wordy and it wouldn’t have fit. And my handwriting these days, as you know, is pretty awful, so I’m jotting my thoughts down here.

It goes without saying that Mom’s give much of their time. But our society being what it is, especially when I was growing up, it was less likely that a father had time to give. And that when he was home, he’d spend it with the kids rather than himself. Ward Cleaver seemed to spend more time with his newspaper than with Wally and the Beaver. But not you. My recollection is that you were always willing to spend time with us kids. For that I feel lucky, grateful, and loved.

From simple things like when it was raining, you were willing to be late for work so you could give us a ride in the car to the bus stop and wait for the bus to pull up to take us to school.

Another seemingly simple thing was the hours you’d spend on weekend mornings watching cartoons with us and silly movies like Tarzan. You seemed to enjoy Bullwinkle and Boris and Natasha as much as us. It made it fun having our Dad as a co-conspirator in the silliness. To top it off you’d often cook something special like pancakes.

Whether we really wanted to or not you and Mom rightly thought it best that we participate in team sports. So, baseball and basketball it was. You spent countless hours playing catch or hoops and taking us to the fields and courts and then watching us at our games. You even volunteered to coach. What I also clearly recall is that you had no problem admitting maybe this wasn’t exactly your forte’ either. And off you’d go to the library to get a book with us on beginner’s baseball or how to shoot a basketball. No Google or YouTube to show us the way back then. You’d take the time to digest this stuff and then help teach us. Perhaps you were teaching yourself too? That was cool. And you taught us that the library was our friend – and thus a lifelong fondness for books and reading.

Perhaps other stuff came easier to you. Math, homework for example. Much as we hated it, you always had time for homework. I can remember sitting at the kitchen table. My mind would phase out of listening and I recall having to will my mind to pay attention, pay attention, pay attention, lest I fall asleep – or worse yet disappoint you because well if YOU could take the time for MY homework, how could I not pay attention, even though I hated it and was lost.

I seem to recall you didn’t have much of a problem letting us observe, emphasis on observing, when you were doing models, but I don’t recall having the acumen or patience for doing these myself. But I did love the miniaturization of this stuff. And we were just talking about some of the models a month ago on our visit. Were Pat and Carey (my brothers) good at this?

I recall you taking the time to work with us on Cub scouts and the cool soap box derby racers and the correct placement of the fishing weights inside to make it zoom down the track.

Cars were your thing and I do recall you trying to teach us our way around a car and a car engine. I felt bad for having no desire to learn a clutch, which you and Mom were both so proud of knowing how to do. And even less interest in learning my way around an engine and replacing the oil and stuff. Of course, not learning these things would come back to haunt me as I’d ignore doing basic maintenance and consequently the car would break down and I’d have to call you to come get me or get me a tow. And then pay to fix it too.

You were patient with trying to teach us to fish. I think Mom had more luck teaching us to crab, well it is more fun. I remember our little fishing reels. LOL.

Gardening and grass cutting. Okay, maybe the grass cutting was needed, but I learned to love learning about plants from you and it cultivated a life-long love of working in the garden and harvesting herbs.

I also recall stargazing. You’d offer to look up and observe the night sky and you seemed to know constellations and other things. I still pretend to know a little of that stuff.

And of course, there were the ballgames. I know this wasn’t exactly your thing. Which made it even more remarkable that you’d take me to baseball and football games. My fondest recollection was a Monday Night Football game with the Redskins in Baltimore. It was raining the whole time. Traffic was a nightmare. And yet you and Uncle Jimmy and maybe Grandad too, took me to the game in enemy territory. And once I had my own season tickets, I fondly recall that you very nicely accompanied me to many games as I often couldn’t find people who wanted to go – I know, imagine that. I still remember the NFC Championship game we went to with the Redskins hanging on to win and me and you trying to open a bottle of snuck in champagne as the clock ticked down.

As I got older and left the house you were there for every move with a U-Haul and your back to move furniture and boxes. Again, there’s that taking the time thing.

I’m sure I’ve left a lot out, but these are just a few examples to help fill in the card and emphasize that as I remember it, you were always willing to spend time with us and so, well, I wanted you to know that it is appreciated and say thank you!

Perhaps it is all the more remarkable, given that maybe your father didn’t exactly set the same example for you.

There are so many things that you, and Mom, have and continue to give us and that’s too much to go into here. Time is just one of those amazing gifts. My brothers and I are lucky. We know it.

Much love,

Chris”

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Chris Hamilton is founder of the local advocacy group Friends of Car-Free Key West & Duval Street/Historic Downtown. Subscribe to the blog. Follow on Facebook and Twitter. A native of the District of Columbia, where for a couple decades+ he led nationally renowned efforts promoting transit, bike, walk and smart growth for Arlington County, VA’s DOT. Chris has lived in Key West since 2015. He lives car-free downtown and works and volunteers for a few non-profits. You can find three years’ worth of KONK Life Streets for People column articles here and here.

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