Happy Father's Day!

WOW...okay so it has been over 30 days since my last entry...but I have a whole box of excuses I can throw at you...let’s see:
1) I went home on leave on the 19th of May and didn't return to Iraq until the 10th of June. Obviously I was going to spend all of my time with my family and not blogging.
2) I have been REALLY busy at work getting caught up since I got back.... (Maybe not as true as the previous excuse but at least it seems plausible)
3) My internet service has been down and I was unable to post...

Okay so only one of those statements is true...I'll let you decide. Honestly I have been kinda having some writers block...not that I didn't have ideas of what to write...but maybe not such a great desire to sit down and write...to take the time to do so...to put the thoughts onto "paper" so to speak.

But today is a special occasion and I thought it'd be callous of me to not write...especially to not take a moment to pay tribute to my Father...and now that I understand this day a bit better...my children.

Happy Father's Day to all of you out there that might be called things like Dad, Daddy, Dada, Papa, Pop, etc...My personal favorite is Dada because that is what my firstborn child, Madeleine, calls me. She sometimes says Daddy...but usually it is Dada and it melts my heart and brings tears to my eyes just to type this because I can hear her sweet voice in my head. I have called my Father, dad, for as long as I can remember. I am sure that I called him Daddy at some point but it is the times that I have known him as Dad that I cherish most. I think the transition for a young son...the transition when your father starts becoming more like a best friend than a father...are some of the most critical moments of all the formative years. I know that they have been for me.

My Dad has always been a super human...a man whose intelligence is not matched by many. He is not just a man with a gift of speech or leadership. He is an exceptionally hard worker. My Grandmother always boasts of how he has always been that way. She often speaks about how she never had to get after him about chores...he always helped with cooking, cleaning, milking the cow, etc...He is an exceptional writer...and a gifted orator. I am always so proud to hear him pray at church or speak at a social or professional function...he inspires me to have a better command of our language.

My Dad was the Captain of the Football team, President of the Beta Club, and received an appointment to the United States Military Academy at West Point. He served on Active Duty and in the Reserves of the United States Army and destiny brought him to my Mother while serving in South Korea. He was obviously a well rounded individual both academically and athletically. But he wasn't just that stuff to me...he was so much more. My Dad knew the answers to everything as I was growing up. Nobody's Dad was like mine. My Dad could do it all. He was an electrician, a plumber, a carpenter, a HVAC technician, a Superintendent, and an excellent Mechanic....and while most Dad's dabble in all of those things...breaking more than they fix...my Dad was trained and licensed to do all of those things...having already earned a degree in Business Administration from LSU, he used his GI Bill to get certified in Vocational Trades so he wouldn't have wasted his educational benefits! Amazing. He still speaks Latin and can even communicate a bit in Korean. Not too shabby for a country boy who grew up on a farm outside of Clinton Louisiana.

Dad worked a great deal when I was really young....I remember going to construction sites with him as a child...especially in the summer when I wasn't in school. I learned a lot from him by watching him do all of the things that he knew how to do. In my later years he still worked quite a bit...but I was able to do some things to help out and he and my Grandfather rarely missed opportunities to employ me and teach me a life lesson or two.

I am going to write about just one of those....

Together with my Dad and Grandfather, we built a pond, a beautiful 3 acre (or so) 30 feet deep monster of a pond nestled in the Tunica Hills...rimmed by a 200 feet tall horseshoe shaped ridge, surrounded by dozens of Cypress Trees that we planted and the 1000's of hardwoods that we left in place, we created a beautiful setting that is home to bass, blue gill, catfish, gators at times, deer, squirrels, and wood ducks. We transformed an entire landscape, removed hills, bulldozing 100's of trees, building a levee, hand digging a spillway for over a hundred yards...and cutting dozens of cords of firewood in the process. I remember sweating my tail off on that bull dozer through the summer of my 14th year...I'd hold on to the side of the bull dozer, sitting on the fuel tank next to the hydraulic controls. I'd climb up and down for 10-12 hours each day of every weekend...and whenever Dad could take off from work. I'd chain the trees to the blade and then Dad would push the trees all the way to the stockpile area south of the pond. Then I'd jump back down from that monstrous D8 size dozer and unchain the trees. Often the chains would be stretched and stuck...I'd have to beat on them with a hammer to get them freed. We broke so many chains...stuck the dozer a few times, threw track, wrung U-joints off, and pumped hundreds of gallons of diesel by hand into that thirsty fuel tank. It seemed like it was always HOT...but we worked away...watching my Dad's vision of his pond take form over the gradual weeks and months of that year. We ate a whole lot of hunny buns and ham, turkey, and roast beef sandwiches that year...and Granddaddy ate a ton of prunes and other fruit...and did his best to get me to eat anything but junk food like the chips, pork rinds, and soft drinks that I loved so much...but that was a losing battle. I had so many great conversations with the two of them every weekend as we'd ride up in the truck...listening to Car Talk on the radio...or talking about particular garden crops, hunting spots, guys to buy stock fish from, etc... I got to see the relationship that my Dad and Granddaddy had with each other. It was something special...a mutual level of respect where each of them valued the others advice or perspective. I was always in such awe of what the two of them knew. There was not likely a topic under the sun that the two of them could not have an educated discussion about. They rarely spoke of trivial things like politics or gossip. Neither of them could tell you what movies were playing, what the latest sports car was from Detroit, or what the latest style of clothing was. But either one could tell you how to graft an orange onto a wild Osage sticker bush. Either one of them could teach you to build a wood duck nest from cypress...and explain to you why it would be so valuable for the future when you watched one pair of ducks turn into dozens by the time your kids would be there to watch them. They could tell you when to plant your tomatoes, when to harvest your peppers, how to tell when your mustard greens were just right, and how to keep the moles and coons out of the garden. We did a lot of target shooting...some occasional hunting...and took a few naps in the rye grass too. We built something together that our family and many others have enjoyed for years now...and will enjoy for many more to come.

I look back at that year...and mainly that summer...and realize now what we built. More than just a pond...a place to fish or swim...or ride the rope swing...we built memories. My heart is overflowing with the love that I feel for my father and grandfather...not because of what they have done for me...the 4 wheeler that Granddaddy bought me to ride on our place...or the truck my Dad got me when I was in High School....no...but because of experiences like the ones we had when we built that pond..because of who they were...who my Dad is. I learned to love and respect my Dad and his Dad so much more because of the time that we spent together and the lessons that they taught me. Those times are invaluable...you cannot put a price on the value of those lessons. You cannot teach them in school and you cannot script them. Some of the best things I learned from the two of them that summer were learned in complete and utter silence...side by side...digging in unison...a spillway to keep our levee from being overtopped. We would work for hours and never say a word...and those moments were priceless.

This is my 3rd Father's Day as a Father now...and I feel that I understand even more what this day is about. It is a time that we take to honor our Father's and acknowledge how important they are in making us who we are. But for me it is a time to reflect on what I need to be for my children...kind of a chance to reflect and reset myself on the path. On my first Father's Day my daughter was in critical condition in the hospital and I'd just buried my Son...neither of them were even supposed to have been born yet...not for another 11 weeks! I was still in shock and other than the cards that I received I do not remember much but pain, worry, and anxiety. I know that I was thankful to still have my daughter Maddy with us...but I was still reeling from the loss of my Son and I still find it difficult to revisit those emotions. Last Father's Day, I was truly celebrating! Madeleine has made so much progress and Katherine was pregnant with our second daughter, Juliana! It was a great day to really get to celebrate being a father for the first time... Though I haven't yet had an opportunity to be a great father for my children...they are still so young that I know they'll not recall anything that I have done or will do for the next couple of years...so really I have an amazing opportunity to learn how to do this right! But more than that, I am being taught how to be a Daddy by them. They do so many amazing little things and are so precious to just sit and watch. I think that spending time with them and seeing them grow and developed instills a burning desire in a father to build...to build a future for them that exceeds one's own. I want so much for them. This year...is tougher. I am homesick...I miss my little girls...I miss my bride, and I am struggling at times with the wonder of what I am making my babies miss out on. A thought crossed my mind while I was at home: Are hugs and kisses cumulative? Will my babies love me as much...having missed out on a year's worth of affection from me? I know that the very concept is absurd...but it did honestly flash across my conscious thought. I know how tough Katherine has it at home and think to myself that I am not sure I should even get to celebrate Father's Day this year. I know that this is just temporary and that in many ways I am doing the things necessary to take care of them...but it's not the same as being Daddy at home. This year, Father's day is a tough day. But not that I am taking anything away from the day, it is not just about me...I am so very blessed to have such a strong family to support us back home. They are the ones making this year possible. My service to Our Country is as much about the Saint family as it is about Captain Saint. I cannot wait to return so that next year...I can spend Father's day at home with my Dad and my girls...cherishing all that we have been through...and what it has made us...a loving and devoted family. I am so very proud to be a Father...a Dada...and I know that it is largely because of my Father...my Dad, Sidney Douglas Saint. I Love You Dad, thanks for being such an incredible Father.