Last week I wrote of my father. I then realized that I should have waited until today, his birthday, to pay tribute to him. Please bear with me as I indulge myself and write about him again.
My father would be the first to call himself an ordinary man. He remained modest, even humble, about his accomplishments.
At the outbreak of World War II, he enlisted in the Navy and was sent to Washington, DC. Though he had skills that would have allowed him to stay behind a desk, he volunteered to go overseas and was deployed to the Pacific Theater. During that time, two of his brothers died. The Red Cross offered to send him home, but he refused, believing he was needed where he was.
He was an ordinary man.
After returning from the war, he went to school, graduated with honors, and attended law school. He obtained a job with the Department of Justice where he rose to the rank of GS-16, the highest rating in the government at that time.
He was an ordinary man.
He and my mother cared for the widows and elderly in their church, taking them to doctors' appointments, to the grocery store, for a meal at a restaurant. Anyone who was alone at Thanksgiving or Christmas or other holidays knew they would find a place at the McBride table.
He was an ordinary man.
Yes, my father was an ordinary man, one who did extraordinary things.
So, for today, and for every day, I am grateful for my father.
Thank you for this posting. Ordinary people can do great things if they have the type of faith and work ethic your father obviously had.
ReplyDeleteHmmm. Maybe I should get out of my jammies and do something!
Jane,
ReplyDeleteA beautiful tribute to your father--an extraordinary man. --Bobbe and John
It's been a contemplative past two days reflecting on the vacancy of my dad Rolf and Willard, my grandfather. Rolf admired Bill as a professional, a father and a man. I share this memory of grandpa to illustrate his gentle nature and love for his family: I was about 6 and Grandpa came to Salt Lake for a case he was working. He let me stay with him at the Shilo. We rode the glass elevator up to his floor. We got inside and he prepared me dinner: fried chicken he had stashed out on the balcony,Tang to drink and a couple spoonbills of PB&J for dessert. We read Dr. Suess and he taught me a song to serenade a girl in my class.
ReplyDelete30 years later I still remember this time together. How lucky I was to have had this time with my grandpa!