Lifelong Lessons of My Father
by: Samantha Schrader

As years have passed through my life, I’ve encountered a number of different experiences. With these experiences, there have been many people who influenced my ways. Of all these people, one man has always stood out and made the extra difference—my dad, Rusty. My dad has always been there for me, through thick and thin. Even though I’m not able to see him due to a dispute between my mother and him (who are divorced), he’s always in my heart. The three months that have kept me from my dad only add to my respect for him.
My dad’s family never had much money when he lived with his parents. Before he began the eleventh grade, Dad quit school to work as a plumber and earn some money. Ironically, this taught me a valuable lesson in life because he got his G.E.D. a few years later. He later married my mother, who he met while she was in high school. After that, Dad got a job hauling fuel for Agway. He’s now progressed to the role of “lead driver”. Dad showed me that working hard can finally become rewarding.
When Dad was in his late 20s, I was born. Two years later, my sister, Miranda, was brought into the family. I always knew Dad was a little disappointed that he wasn’t blessed with sons so I was always trying my best to compensate for this. In reality, I believe there’s no way he could have been a happier parent. However, I found it necessary for years to adorn myself with big, red, rubber boots and blue jean coveralls for hours of watching for my Mickey Mouse bobber to jerk under the water into the unknown murky existence. “Be quiet and stay still, or the fish won’t bite,” my dad would explain. Not wishing to displease him, I would sit carefully on the bank awaiting “a big one”. Eventually, I mastered the art of stabbing my sharp hook through the wriggling, slimy worm body. Dad was always proud of my accomplishments, no matter how small they appeared to be, and baiting my own hook was no exception. “Good job!” Dad would exclaim, “I’m proud of you!”
I also learned the value of friendship from my dad’s personal experiences. My dad’s best friend, Rob Chilson, and him have maintained their friendship since elementary school. As far as I know, they’re still best friends to this day. I doubt that factor will ever change in either of their lives. Rob’s daughter, Shannon, and I were only born 8 days apart, which has added to my dad and Rob’s similarities. Through Dad’s actions, I have learned that friendship should always be valued, no matter how old you are.
Before my parents’ divorce, Dad was the one who initiated the separation between them. Although I was a mere seventh grader at the time, I was the first person Dad consulted in. “Do you think I should?” Dad asked me with deep hesitation.
I thought for a while, though I had known all along that something like this was coming. “I don’t want to see you and Mom fight anymore,” I stammered pitifully.
“You know I’ll always be here for you right? No matter what happens I’ll always love you,” Dad questioned.
“I love you too,” I answered him, with a rubbery smile that I couldn’t possibly recognize as realistic. I knew Dad was worried about so much, but I was never sure how to pacify his sharp pain. All I knew to do was assure him that I still loved him and I understood why all this was happening. The divorce that followed was very difficult. When Dad lived with us, he always was the one who cared for Miranda and me. He picked us up from the bus everyday after school, cooked our supper, assisted with our homework, and put us to bed nights while my mother was working. Now things had changed.
I saw Dad about three days a week at his new house. It was so strange to have a different environment associated with my dad. Soon after, a nice woman, Tina, and Dad began dating. Tina had a son, Ryan, who I was glad to meet since I had always wanted a little brother. Dad and Tina married a few years later, and I had no problem relating to his new wife. Dad always made things seem all right, no matter how terrible they got to be. I constantly told him, “I wish I could live with you; it’s so much happier here.”
I knew he was thinking the same, but Dad would always reply with a slight smile and say, “You get along with your mother. When things start to get bad, just think that you’ll be able to see me after a couple of days.” That’s exactly what I did, and it gave me strength to know that our visits were just around the corner. One of the last days I remember that I really got to spend time with my father was a few days after my sixteenth birthday, since my mother wouldn’t let me see him on my birthday. He knew my birthday hadn’t gone well, given that my mother made me clean most of the day and I couldn’t go to my boyfriend, Matt’s, house like I wanted. That morning, when I arrived at Dad’s, he greeted me with a huge bear hug and exclaimed, “Happy birthday, Honey.” It was so nice to be with Dad for my celebrations. Dad planned to make up for my original misfortunes that occurred at my mother’s by inviting some of his family and Matt over, getting a cake, and basically throwing me a miniature birthday party. Unfortunately, my family couldn’t all come at once, Tina had to work all day, and there were no candles for the cake. As usual, Dad kept a smile on my face. Even though my family visited at sporadic times, Dad stuck his prized lighter in the cake to use as a candle and he and Matt sang me the “Happy Birthday” chorus. Dad’s lighter was a Christmas present from me, which he treasured dearly but willingly sacrificed for my cake. This event made me much more happy than the traditional candles because this way, Dad added his own piece of endearment. As always, however, the time came when my life met complication all over again.
The battles and jealousy between my mother and father escalated, hauling me towards the middle. Finally, my mother ripped all visitations between Miranda, Dad, and me away. Miranda, being the youngest, hasn’t ever been nearly as affected as I. I’m now left with the countdown until the day I turn 18 and have the option of seeing Dad. When this entire mess begins to bother me, and I’m left with the salty tears running down my cheeks, I remember Dad’s strength and hope to convince myself that I’ll be fine. Maybe we’ll go fishing when I see him again. After all, our visits are “just around the corner”.