Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I admire you the most of any man in this world.
And, here’s how…
*For leaving your home country of Iran and coming to the States as a wide-eyed teenager
*For marrying a blonde American woman to the chagrin of your Turkish/Persian strict parents
*For raising four children while pursuing a PhD in chemistry and working odd jobs like a gas station attendant when we were babies.
*For enduring the persecution of ethnic hostility during the hostage crisis.
*For supporting all of us through thick and thin as we grew up
*For having to say good bye to your youngest child and experiencing that pain
*For sharing your knowledge, stories, insight, and intellect with me
*For having an endless supply of love and laughter for your kids and grandchildren.
I’ll never forget watching my dad earn his doctorate at Wayne State University in Detroit. It was a proud moment. He was so handsome with the biggest grin and I remember him waving to us in the rafters as we watched him accept his diploma.
When I was a baby girl, I was daddy’s girl. Still am, actually; I think that never goes away. My dad would come home late and tuck me in at night. We’d look at the stars and say Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star together.
My memories of childhood are fond, especially when we lived in Iran as a whole family. We had no care, no TV, no phone, just life in a third-world country, and love carried us through. It was a simpler time when all we had to worry about was the Shah’s Savak spying on our family. Dad was a dean of students at Pahlavi University in Shiraz, and we had an endless stream of students clamoring for my dad’s attention.
My dad had a choice at various crossroads of his life, and I’m grateful he always chose us. I’m even more grateful he’s here in the flesh so my daughter can know Grampa.
I’m trying really hard to keep this light and not too sappy and that’s why the tone may be a tad abrupt. I’ve been fortunate more than most to know that whenever I needed anything at all I had only to turn to my parents for that support; that hasn’t changed, and I know it never will.
WE LOVE YOU, DAD. Thanks for giving me the gift of life.
Very sweet post, Jayme! Your dad sounds pretty special and definitely had an influence on you and now your daughter…would love to see a pic! I’ll bet he’s a handsome guy. Thanks for sharing him with us.
Very interesting and thanks for sharing. He sounds like a great man and certainly to have the courage to leave Iran.
Iran first came into my consciousness in college when small groups of students would have sit-in protests and shout “kill the Shah, the Shah is a puppet of the US”; and I’m thinking “huh”, what has that got to do w/ a southern university?
This internet has sure flattened out the world and has enriched my experience finding out how others lived.
Good to see you today and hope it’s a good one for you.
What an awesome post Jayme! Cheers to your dad!
G’Day Jayme,
And we grumble when the bus is a minute or two late! Dads and their daughters; mums and their sons. We have four adult children; three daughters and a son, and four granddaughters and two grandsons.A bloody great delight in our lives.
Your piece on your dad reminded me of when my first book was published in 1984. My eldest was ecstatic, over the moon, thrilled to bits for me. And she was a teenager at the time!
Thanks for reminding me. Sounds like you and your dad deserve each other.
Just enjoy; best wishes
Leon
I was at dinner with dad this evening when your sweet note arrived, Leon. I shared it with him! Not that he understood how special it was coming all the way from down under. What was the title of that book, please?
G’Day Jayme,
I don’t think that it’s still available. It was called “The Social Manager; Let’s Stop Playing at Management Training.” It was my first foray into the business of suggesting that conventional approaches to management training simply don’t work. Since then I’ve extended my unconventional views to most conventioal wisdoms of HR.
All good clean fun.
Regards
Leon
I’ll be tapping you soon, Leon. Need to get out of this rut called summer. How’s winter?
yay! love the pic!
You resemble your dad! Thanks for sharing. The courage it must take to leave your country to come to the unknown. I can’t imagine, but I’m sure it was to make a better life for himself and eventually his family. How wonderful to still have him around to share stories with his grandchildren. Hopefully they will know his life story and struggles. I hope he had a wonderful Father’s Day!
Heh. Did you see me whining over at Erica’s, Autumn? Couldn’t help myself; thanks for popping over to grace my home. Cheers, Lady Friend.
I’m a daddy’s girl, too, although it’s not to the exclusion of my mom, I must say. I know what you mean about keeping it from getting too sappy; I get a lump in my throat when I start writing about my parents, too. I hope you’ll send him a link!
Dad read the post before I even knew he had. Then the comments rolled in and I showed him during dinner. That was cool. Yeah, the post was pretty non-emotional; stilted and it was purposeful. When the floodgates open, I’m dead meat, and it’s been awhile.
Very sweet post. I am sure that he appreciates it. I am not Persian, but I have a lot of Persian friends and have heard lots of stories. That was a crazy time after the Shah was deposed.
The Jack? I just erased what I really wanted to say in response to your comment. So, instead, I’ll say eat food. That is all.