things my father gave to me

Here is a piece I wrote a while ago about things my father gave me. I've been thinking about these gifts lately and about Dad. I just know that he has been interceding for me these past few months...and most likely way before that!

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Life...My father gave me life. Despite the large intervals in years among his kids, there were no unwanted babies in my family. I know without doubt that he loved each of us before we were born, when we were a mere “twinkle in his eye”, as he used to say.

Faith...The most important thing my father (as did my mother) gave me is faith. By my baptism, my dad gave me this wondrous gift. He saw to it that we had a Catholic education and that we always went to Mass every Sunday and every holy day. By his example of attending daily Mass and recitation of the rosary (daily) and his myriad of prayers found in his various prayer books, he taught me about having a prayer life. I know I would not be where I am spiritually without my father’s influence.

How to live the corporal works of mercy...He fed the hungry at the soup kitchen and delivered Meals on Wheels. He sheltered the homeless and visited the imprisoned. There was a young man named Joe who came over from Italy and somehow Mom and Dad took him in to live with them. (I think a priest got them together when Joe first arrived.) Now, Joe was a very shady character by any standard but Dad didn’t care. Over the years, Joe would be in and out of prison for white collar crimes and Dad would ALWAYS go visit him. I think Dad was a constant thorn in Joe’s side because he always gave him what-for. Still, Joe sought Dad out constantly. Their relationship lasted many, many years, and was always the same. When my mother’s mother became ill after Grandpa died, he took her in and she lived with us until she died. Along with his brothers, he supported his own mother all of her life. (Their dad died when Dad was 13. Being the oldest of 5, Dad had to start working. He managed to graduate from Catholic high school, even so.) He supported Grandma financially but he also visited her almost every single day (to my mother’s chagrin sometimes because he tended to be late to dinner then.) Dad’s personal ministry was visiting the sick in the hospitals. He’d collect Louis Lamour books to hand out. (I’d often tell him that Mrs. So and So would NOT want to read a western book but he would just shake his head and hand them out to men and women alike.) He’d take us kids along. The first time I looked at imminent death was when he and I visited a man who was dying of emphysema. He was in an oxygen tent and crying because it hurt so badly. He was in his 40’s. That made a huge impact on me regarding compassion. Dad had a spirit of servitude that never rested. His social circle included very wealthy people in Duluth, as well as very poor. He exhorted his wealthy friends to do this or do that for the poor. Together, they did amazing philanthropic works. I have one memory of Dad taking Mary, Pat, Tom and me on a train every summer with the “underprivileged kids” from Duluth to Moose Lake, where we’d spend the day at the beach, playing games and swimming and then we’d return by dusk. I don’t remember which of his organizations sponsored it but I always looked forward to it. That day, none of us kids were white or black or rich or poor. We were kids, eating Popsicles and having fun. He was a 4th degree Knight of Columbus and was in their honor guard at practically every funeral for which the Knights had an honor guard. He knew how to bury the dead in style! I imagine there are examples of his giving drink to the thirsty and clothing the naked but I don’t have good ones to tell you…I don’t think giving alcohol to his friends at the parties he and Mom would throw count! When he died, I went back to their apartment and looked over his things. I realized that he didn’t have many worldly goods, even though he certainly had had the means to afford a lot of them. Things were never important to him. As I looked over his things, I thought to myself that I was seeing a life well lived, one filled with service to people, not one trapped by belongings.

A sense of tradition...Every December 8th, our whole family would trek out to our cabin and tramp along in the woods, looking for our Christmas tree. Dad would have the youngest child on his back. I remember it being Kathy but I also remember me being on his back. Being that we all had the day off from school (due to it being the Feast of the Immaculate Conception and we were in Catholic schools), Dad would take the day off from work so we could do this. I can still hear him singing, “tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp…I’m happy when I’m hiking…”, as we waddled along in thigh-deep snow.

A sense of humor...Dad’s sense of humor never slept. He had the funniest stories to tell us around the dinner table. He’d come up with the craziest ways to look at things, all more humorous than the last. There was a lot of laughter in our home. He was extremely intelligent and very creative. Once, he caught a live bat at our cabin and put it in a jar. He thought it would be a great show and tell item for Tom (who was probably in 4th grade at the time) to take to school. Well, one of Tom’s fellow students thought it would be funny to unscrew the top off the jar and let the bat out. It wasn’t long before the principal, Sr. Mary Paul, was calling Dad at work, saying, “John Whalen, your bat is flying all over the auditorium. You come and get your bat this minute!” Sr. Mary Paul, all 4’11 inches of her, was a formidable force and no one, not even 6'3” Dad, would ever consider crossing her!

How to live a courageous life...By his holding me in his arms, as we looked out the big picture window of our kitchen which overlooked Lake Superior (spectacular view, by the way) and softly telling me lightening and thunder were nothing to be afraid of and showing me why, I learned a life lesson: to face my fears. He told me once that he'd joined the Navy to see the world but ended up in Cleveland, Ohio with a desk job. To me, it showed his willingness to be courageous but also accepting of whatever came his way. The good news is he was a newlywed in Cleveland so I have a feeling Cleveland turned out to be quite a wonderful place to him!

How to stand up for the sanctity of life and those less fortunate than I...By his walking around the abortion clinic for years and years (into his infirm, old age), he spoke volumes (silently) to me of his commitment to teach people that we are all God’s children, that all of our lives are important to this world, and our lives must be protected from harm and we must do our part to see that they are.

He gave me a love of music...The piano he bought for $25 and the 75 cent lessons gave my older sisters Mary, Pat and me opportunities we would never have had otherwise. We all worked our way through college, playing for Mass. Mary and I earned degrees in music and went on to earn a living by becoming music directors in parishes; I teach piano; Pat accompanies in a church and has taught organ. I praise God the best at the piano. It’s funny, too, because Dad never played the piano, except for one very amazing piece that he’d learned by heart. He also was known as one who would fall asleep at every musical event his children were in (the only exception was at my senior piano recital in college…I was so proud!). Despite his lacking, he instilled in his children a lifelong love of music.

Dance...Mom and he loved to square dance and ballroom dance. We’d be at home and, all of a sudden, he’d link arms with Mom and off they’d be, doing a jig, right there in the middle of the living room! It was very beautiful. Of course, it’s too bad his one daughter (me!) didn’t inherit his sense of rhythm. However, I do love watching people dance and I’m not adverse to trying a few steps whenever someone (usually one of my sons at weddings) asks me.

How to be a leader...He was a born leader. I learned so much from him about how to treat people with respect and kindness, as he worked to rally people to right injustices. He was also an excellent public speaker. He took me to Toastmasters once and I wanted to be like him as I listened to him. In those days, my shyness got in my way, but I learned to overcome that as I was later called to speak about life issues, things about which I was passionate.

Education...It was extremely important to Dad that his children get college educations. I will always be grateful to him for instilling in me a love of learning that, hopefully, will last until I die. He taught me discipline. He taught me to pick myself up when I failed and figure out another solution to whatever it was I was working on. He gave me a career path that I would realize years later.

In many ways, I am who I am because of my father. He gave me wonderful tools with which to live my life. I have a lovely, blessed life and I know it is in large measure due to what Dad taught me. I will always be grateful to him. I am very blessed to have had him as my dad.

NOTE: My dad, John Whalen, died at the Benedictine Health Care Center in Duluth, MN, on January 26, 1996, one day shy of the 8th anniversary of my sister Mary Lindquist's death.