The era in which I have come of age has forced me to be a cynic when in comes to my “heroes” and the successful men that serve as an inspiration. Lance Armstrong, like many of them, is the most recent example of this precipitous fall from grace. With this in mind, I would like to take a moment to thank my real hero and male role model: my dad.
My father was born in Portugal and came to the United States when he was 7 years old on one of the last wave of boats allowed through Ellis Island before it was closed in 1954. A child of the 50s who came to age in the 60s. He was drafted to fight in the Vietnam War and fought in the Tet Offensive. Only after he returned from Vietnam did he obtain his official citizenship to the United States.
I want to make sure that I state that again: my father was drafted, and fought in, the Vietnam War BEFORE he was a United States citizen. He returned home to a country that did not know how to respond to veterans. A country that was in upheaval over the very war he fought in. He is, quite possibly, the proudest American that I know.
Dad has been married to my mom for 38 years.
Dad worked his tail off to provide for our family.
Dad taught me how to pitch and taught me how to hit a baseball. We won back to back titles in Little League with him at the helm.
He taught me how to throw a football.
Dad showed me how to change the oil on my car, how to tie a necktie, how to shave, how to build a shed, how to drive a standard, and how to ride a bike.
Dad went back to school as an adult to switch careers. A career that he now loves. He showed me how to work hard, even though it is not always easy.
Perhaps most importantly, my dad instilled in me a sense of pride in my name and my family history. He educated me about the history of both sides of my family, why I come from good stock, and why it was important to continue the legacy in my own way. My dad told me how proud he was of me (and my brothers) and why we would achieve greatness in our lives.
My Dad was one of my groomsmen on my wedding day (along with my two brothers).
My Dad is my role model.
While I looked up to athletes as a kid and admired them for their incredible abilities, I needed to look no further than my father for how to live as a man.
In a time when seemingly every male worth looking up to has committed some colossal series of mistakes, or has fallen from the spotlight behind a wall of lies, at least I do not need to use their example to determine what is morally right.
My grandfathers are also both role models.
My father-in-law has been married to my mother-in-law for 38 years. He is a role model as well.
Thankfully, I am not alone.
I was reminded of this in a recent conversation with one of my best friends, my college roommate, Dave, about the Lance Armstrong story. His father is also great. His father also fought in the Vietnam War and overcame incredible obstacles in his life to raise a beautiful family.
So are the millions of other dads out there that do what they can every day for their families. Are we imperfect? You bet. And we are doing our best every day to be great men. To be great role models for our children. I want my children to look up to athletes and marvel at the seemingly impossible feats they accomplish. And when it comes to how to live a life of integrity, I want them to look up to me.
Hearing Lance Armstrong’s confession yesterday is a colossal disappointment for me, personally. I WANTED to believe he was clean.
I wanted to believe that he defied the odds.
I wanted to believe that he beat cancer and conquered the most difficult endurance challenge on planet Earth–seven times in a row.
Even though I heard the rumors for years, I participated in willful ignorance, because I wanted to be inspired.
I was wrong. We all were wrong.
And: I have a choice. We all have a choice.
I choose to use this time to celebrate the real role models. To share stories about my dad. To applaud people who are responsible for great deeds that never make it to television, or receive multi-million dollar sponsorships, or the chance to date rock stars.
If you are reading this blog please: share your stories with me. Let’s reclaim our moral ground.
From the bottom of my heart: thank you, Dad.