Tunnels are Sacred Places - A tribute to my dad

A few days ago I had the distinct privilege of spending 12 hours in a car with my mom and her husband. I know what you maybe thinking, that if it is my mom’s husband then would that not make him my dad. And the answer is quite simple, No, you see my dad passed away 16 years ago and my mom remarried about 5 years ago at the young age of 71. So by the time my mom got remarried I had 5 kids of my own and trying to be a dad to my own children, yet I digress. But that does bring me to an interesting topic of discussion, what makes a dad a dad?

You see my dad was always there for each one of his children, we would spend time with him watching him do what he loved, calling balls and strikes behind home plate at the local ball diamond. Then after words we would share some Good ‘n’ Plenty candy and talk about the game. Each week he would take one of us with him to watch and “Critic” his umpiring ability, not that he needed any critiquing, he received plenty of that from the spectators. But I think that he just wanted to spend time with his children.

Anyway back to driving home, just outside of Portland heading east on I84 there is a tunnel. Now to most motorists a tunnel is a hole in the mountain that enables you to drive through to get to the other side, but to me it is much more than that it is a place where I feel close to my dad.

Since I live out of state it is hard for me to visit the cemetery on a regular basis. I know a cemetery is just a place where his remains are, but it also a place where a one can reflect on the good times, like driving through tunnels with my dad.

You see, my dad he had this quirky habit of honking the car’s horn in every tunnel that he entered regardless of the number of cars in the tunnel, (he would honk that then tell the kids just to wave). He did this mainly to entertain the grundle of kids that he had in the car, but it was something that we as kids looked forward to every time we drove through a tunnel, hearing the deep bass sound of the horn of that Buick Station Wagon. On occasion another driver would join in the fun and return the honk with a quick blast of their horn and then we would laugh and laugh thinking that we just started a symphony of horns.

Anyway, during that trip home from Portland and as we entered the tunnel I could not resist, I leaned on the horn, not once, not twice, but through the whole length of the tunnel. And that honking brought up the conversation about my dad. My mom’s husband asked me why I honked the horn as we went through the tunnel. I explained to him that it is out of respect for my Dad who taught me the values that I live by today.

My dad taught me to have patience with those around you, regardless of the circumstances. He taught me to love one another, to have respect for each other, he would always say, that your friends are for a life time,(or until you get new friends) but your family is forever. He taught us to love and respect our mother. He treated my mom like the queen that she was and now I strive to treat my wife the same way. I am and not as successful as he was but he had a few more years of practice.

He loved each of his children, all 9 of us, equally, and yet he had the ability to make each of us feel like we were his “Favorite” as we spent time with him. Oh sure we had some tough times growing up, but he always made sure that we did not do with out. And I guess that is one additional quality that my dad taught to me, and that is to look and remember the positive things of life, there is really no sense to dwell on the bad, expect to learn from those experience and then move on.

So, as I travel for my profession, I find myself driving through tunnels, whether in my home state of Utah, or in neighboring states, by myself or with my family, I find myself honking the horn in honor of my Dad who taught me how to be the person that I am today. As I honk the horn I can just feel my dad smiling down at me saying “That is my boy”. So dad this one is for you “Beep Beep”…..