My Dad’s Ghost
The ghost of my Dad came to me in a dream last night. “What in the hell is going on down there?” he asked. Now it was never in my Dad’s vocabulary to swear. Nothing more than, “Gosh, darn it all anyway,” or “For crying out loud.” He had my attention. “What has happened to my country?” he asked, this time sounding more forlorn. “What do you mean, Dad?” I asked.
“Well, what in the Sam Hill ever happened to showing courtesy toward the stranger and your political opponents?” I could see that even his ghostly white face was turning red. I wasn’t sure how to answer him. “And, what about loyalty to our allies and friends around the world?” He scratched his balded head. “It seems that Putin is getting all kinds of accolades from some of those who took over my party.”
“In my day…” I knew what was coming next. Hadn’t I been the child of parents who lived through the Depression? My Dad was a fanatic about recycling before it even came into vogue. “We never had plastic containers floating in the ocean,” he reminded me. I was speechless. “Your aunts and uncles are worried, too,” he continued. “We can see what’s happening. Few people seem to be talking about the elephant in the room.”
“What’s that?” I asked trying to figure out which disaster he might be talking about. “The climate crisis of course,” he was beside himself now. “Look at all the hurricanes, floods, and fires around the country and the world. It’s just like the frog in the boiling pot…” I knew the story well.
I searched my mind for good news. It wouldn’t help to remind him about his blood pressure at this stage. “Don’t you remember Dad when we stored spam and canned fruit under the basement stairs just in case of a nuclear war? Well, in the last four years, we haven’t sent any of our young men and women into any wars anywhere around the world.” I saw a smile creep across his face and then disappear almost immediately. Suddenly his anger had turned to sadness.
“I worry about you honey,” he looked into my eyes. “We’re all worried up here about all the innocent people, victims of war, a lot of them children. They come flying through the gates of Paradise in droves each day.” I didn’t know how to console my poor Dad. “Your Mom’s out there serving lunch to those poor kids as they arrive hungry and looking for their families.” I thought my dad was finished but then he piped up again. “Oh, and by the way, tell everyone that they already have enough guns.”
I couldn’t get over how different my dad sounded now that he was on the other side. Didn’t we use to argue over the Vietnam War and a person’s freedom to choose what was best for their life? I used to surprise him when I brought up Abe Lincoln. Now, there was a good Republican who stood for the abolition of slavery. Few of my friends knew this history or appreciated what the Republican party had given the country way over a century ago.
Somehow it is easier to deal with my dad when he is angry. I didn’t know what to do with his sadness. Before I could figure out a plan, he was back at it. “In my day, it took a lot for the middle class to get established in our country. You benefited from that. Now look at all those rich guys who got tax cuts back in 2017.” I couldn’t argue with him there.
Before I could try to console him, much to my surprise Mom showed up wearing her pink checkered apron and holding a plate of chocolate chip cookies. “Honey, we are all rooting for you,” she said smiling. “Some of us are circling the globe in alien spaceships just waiting for a chance to help.” I thought it was sweet of my mom to point this out. “The problem is this,” she went on hesitantly, “God says you have to figure it out on your own.” My face must have dropped because she jumped in again right away.
“I mean, those of you who don’t give into fear will find a way. Just trust me on this.” I wanted to hug both my parents about now. “There are plenty of angels already walking among you, just open your eyes.” I always loved the way my Dad stood up to injustice and my Mom bandaged our wounds. I remember she used always to say, “A stranger is just a friend I haven’t met yet.”
