This past week, I was fortunate enough to take a quick trip back to the United Kingdom.
I spent the time with my 96-year-old father. I had the opportunity to share with him my gratitude for many things. One after the next, memories and lessons learned unfolded as we shared our time. It was a powerful experience.
I had a chance to visit the old high school; the place, which I now know, triggered a series of events that propelled me to head to London to join the Metropolitan Police in the late 1970s. I detail those in my autobiographical book, Handcuffs to Handshakes. (You might remember my stories about the bully whose behavior, possibly unwittingly, helped to shape my career and much of my values in life.)
Significant Lessons Learned – YET AGAIN, From Dad
At 96, my father suffers from dementia. As a result, dad finds it hard to remember the recent past, but memories of his distant past flow freely.
One thing that I learned this week was how my dad met my mother.
Now, you possibly think that I should probably know this already, and you would be right. But my mother passed away from leukemia when I was nine years old, which left dad with four boys, ranging in ages from 5 to 17.
Dad’s father was in the British Army, and he moved around a great deal. It was challenging to make lasting friendships because the other kids at the schools he attended over the years did not live in the housing areas that the Army provided for its officers.
He saw little of his father, who was overseas a great deal, and so he and his younger brother and older sister were brought up primarily by my grandmother. She was an immense influence in his life.
Dad told me that his peaceful demeanor came from his mother. She was a warm soul who wanted nothing more than to provide a home for dad and his siblings and teach them topics that she believed would stand them in good stead for the future.
Physics, chemistry, and mathematics were his strengths.
Fun fact moment: dad taught me how to do Sudoku puzzles this week!
Dad and the Guardian
Every day dad sits with the Guardian and Daily Telegraph newspapers and completes their various sudoku puzzles. On Monday, they publish ‘easy’ puzzles, and as the days of the week progress, so does the difficulty of the puzzles. The ‘diabolical’ puzzle published on Friday often stumps him, but I witnessed him this week complete every other version that appears. Dad said his mother stressed that reading and doing mental puzzles would keep the brain active and have other positive benefits in life.
I wonder if she was onto something there.
I completed my first ‘easy’ level puzzle on Wednesday. It took me 9 minutes. It thrilled me, and I felt quite proud of myself, at least until the moment that dad asked me if I had found it too complicated? After all, nine minutes? He thought that indicated it was pretty tough for me.
Dad and My Mom
Anyway, let me get back to mom and dad.
Dad felt drawn to the Royal Air Force, and after a chance meeting with someone, found himself stationed in Malta. Because of his technical and science background, he worked on aircraft radios.
After the war, an opportunity opened up to go to medical school, which was something his warm and empathetic mother suggested would be a good fit for him.
The Air Force was keen to provide educational opportunities for those interested and would sponsor some of the cost as an added enticement. So he made a quick decision, and off he went to Clare College in Cambridge to take biology and then to Saint Bartholomew’s Medical College in the City of London.
He roomed next door to the Association of English Folk Dancing headquarters. Each evening, when trying to study, the music sounds emanating through the open windows and the walls next door constantly challenged his concentration. Besides, everyone always seemed to be having fun!
Using the adage, ‘if you can’t beat them, join them,’ and having found out that Saint Bartholomew’s Teaching Hospital had an English Folk Dancing club, he signed up for lessons. I had always wondered why my father was keen on folk dancing. Now I know.
The hospital organized dancing events, and at one such event, the Dance Committee brought together both the English Folk dancing Club and the Scottish Dancing Club.
Dad went to that dance. And, you guessed it, someone special was a member of the Saint Bart’s Highland Dancing Club!
Mom was a nurse at Saint Bart’s. The hospital is huge, and dad had never met her out on the wards. It was love at first sight, and the rest, as they say, is history.
But it’s history that he remembers clearly. And for that, I am grateful.
I remember my mother having the same enormous heart and zest for life as my dad, and I grew up always wanting to be like them.
I have a long way to go, but I will continue to work on it until I can no longer.
There you have it.
This week, a homage to dad and another reminder to Phil of the importance of relationships and personal connection.
