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When my maternal mother passed away on Dec. 23, 1951, I was only 3 1/2 years old. Obviously, I was too young to remember what took place on the several Father’s Days afterward.
I feel reasonably sure now, however, that family on both sides ensured dad didn’t have to spend the day alone. I am the oldest of 19 grandchildren on my mother’s side of the family and 18 are still alive today, and the fourth oldest of 15 on my dad’s side, with 14 of those still living.
Most likely, especially for the first couple of Father’s Days which followed her death, family surrounded him. I vividly remember spending lots of time with both sets of grandparents in the early part of my childhood. I recall moving in with my dad’s folks, but sharing my weekends and evening when time allowed with my mother’s parents.
A couple of months after I turned 6, my dad remarried. In doing so, he married my mother’s sister, (my aunt at the time) who was 14 months younger than my maternal mother. She actually had helped take care of me quite a bit during their courtship.
My dad, John McCormick, was employed with Southwestern Bell, he traveled some, and I remember well when the union went on strike and dad was forced to go out of town and work on the switchboard since he was part of management.
When dad wasn’t working, or on a date with my mother-to-be, he usually spent time with me. He had me tag along to the softball games he played with the Southwestern Bell fast pitch team, and he had me sitting in a duck blind when I was 3 1/2 he told me. I went dove hunting with him at a young age, too, retrieving the doves he and others shot.
Even after he and mother were married in July of 1954, we did most everything together.
When I was old enough to play baseball, he was involved with either coaching or helping through my sophomore year of high school. The same was true with basketball. He also taught me how to golf.
Dad was a stickler for detail. While we enjoyed doing lots of things together, my studies always came first. He did take me out of school occasionally so I could go hunting with him once I was older, but the homework was always caught up and he made sure I did it correctly.
He was somewhat a perfectionist. I learned as I have grown older that can be an attribute in many ways, but it also can lead sometimes to taking life a little too seriously.
My dad instilled in me a sense of pride. He always was providing guidance, advice and direction, even when I didn’t want it, up until the time he passed away nearly 21 years ago. Dad was only 64 when lung cancer claimed his life. I always thought he was a strict disciplinarian, and that he was harder on me than he was on my brother or sister.
My wife, Pat, always says she thinks dad was harder on me than my brother for several reasons, but she thinks he would be proud of me today.
He is the one who told me I should take journalism as a high school junior at McGuinness in Oklahoma City, and that began my career as a young journalist when I was 16.
I had no idea what journalism was, but he seemed to think I would enjoy it. I can still hear him telling me that day many years ago it involved writing for newspapers. So 45 years later, I’m still working in the profession I started in as a high schooler. In September, I will celebrate 42 years at the News-Star.
I’ve been reflecting this past week on my dad. I admired and appreciated him for his strongest attributes, and have learned to accept his few weaknesses. Like many others who had lived through the Great Depression, and survived as a veteran of World War II, he overcame adversity and the many challenges in his life to achieve a successful business career and be a great father.
Even though I wish he were still with us today, I know he is in a better place and has been for some time now, looking down on me, hoping I heed all of that guidance, advice and direction he provided while he was still here.
He played an integral role, shaping my life; for that I always will be grateful.
When my maternal mother passed away on Dec. 23, 1951, I was only 3 1/2 years old. Obviously, I was too young to remember what took place on the several Father’s Days afterward.
I feel reasonably sure now, however, that family on both sides ensured dad didn’t have to spend the day alone. I am the oldest of 19 grandchildren on my mother’s side of the family and 18 are still alive today, and the fourth oldest of 15 on my dad’s side, with 14 of those still living.
Most likely, especially for the first couple of Father’s Days which followed her death, family surrounded him. I vividly remember spending lots of time with both sets of grandparents in the early part of my childhood. I recall moving in with my dad’s folks, but sharing my weekends and evening when time allowed with my mother’s parents.
A couple of months after I turned 6, my dad remarried. In doing so, he married my mother’s sister, (my aunt at the time) who was 14 months younger than my maternal mother. She actually had helped take care of me quite a bit during their courtship.
My dad, John McCormick, was employed with Southwestern Bell, he traveled some, and I remember well when the union went on strike and dad was forced to go out of town and work on the switchboard since he was part of management.
When dad wasn’t working, or on a date with my mother-to-be, he usually spent time with me. He had me tag along to the softball games he played with the Southwestern Bell fast pitch team, and he had me sitting in a duck blind when I was 3 1/2 he told me. I went dove hunting with him at a young age, too, retrieving the doves he and others shot.
Even after he and mother were married in July of 1954, we did most everything together.
When I was old enough to play baseball, he was involved with either coaching or helping through my sophomore year of high school. The same was true with basketball. He also taught me how to golf.
Dad was a stickler for detail. While we enjoyed doing lots of things together, my studies always came first. He did take me out of school occasionally so I could go hunting with him once I was older, but the homework was always caught up and he made sure I did it correctly.
He was somewhat a perfectionist. I learned as I have grown older that can be an attribute in many ways, but it also can lead sometimes to taking life a little too seriously.
My dad instilled in me a sense of pride. He always was providing guidance, advice and direction, even when I didn’t want it, up until the time he passed away nearly 21 years ago. Dad was only 64 when lung cancer claimed his life. I always thought he was a strict disciplinarian, and that he was harder on me than he was on my brother or sister.
My wife, Pat, always says she thinks dad was harder on me than my brother for several reasons, but she thinks he would be proud of me today.
He is the one who told me I should take journalism as a high school junior at McGuinness in Oklahoma City, and that began my career as a young journalist when I was 16.
I had no idea what journalism was, but he seemed to think I would enjoy it. I can still hear him telling me that day many years ago it involved writing for newspapers. So 45 years later, I’m still working in the profession I started in as a high schooler. In September, I will celebrate 42 years at the News-Star.
I’ve been reflecting this past week on my dad. I admired and appreciated him for his strongest attributes, and have learned to accept his few weaknesses. Like many others who had lived through the Great Depression, and survived as a veteran of World War II, he overcame adversity and the many challenges in his life to achieve a successful business career and be a great father.
Even though I wish he were still with us today, I know he is in a better place and has been for some time now, looking down on me, hoping I heed all of that guidance, advice and direction he provided while he was still here.
He played an integral role, shaping my life; for that I always will be grateful.
