Man in the Mirror

I think about my dad quite often - I think about him in the car, when I am on my daily walks, and when Maverick tests my patience and I wonder how dad put up with me. But not one day goes by that I don't look at myself in the mirror and think how much I resemble him when he was my age.

Dad was 55 when I rode his shirt-tail into my first job with a major corporation. I'm pretty sure it was his stellar reputation that landed me the job of Mail Clerk for Texaco at their regional office in Tulsa in the fall of 1975. Dad had been the man with "the big bright Texaco star" all my life as he moved from driving a tanker truck to dispatcher and on to a TBA Clerk (Tires Batteries & Accessories). I was really proud to work in the same building as he because he was well thought of by everyone in it. I ate lunch with him often in the couple of years I worked there. In the cafeteria of the building at 21st & Lewis I was able to watch him interact with coworkers and came to admire the respect they had for him. I saw him in a whole different light other than a father.

On times we would be walking together in the building for one reason or the other, if we had to go to another floor he would insist on taking the stairs instead of the elevator because he said, "I need to get my exercise." I would complain loudly because I would have rather taken the elevator. Today, I take the stairs at work often to get my exercise. When Maverick has an occasion to be in the office with me and I take the stairs - guess who complains now?

There are certainly other mannerisms I have that make me think of him for sure. But it is that guy I see in the mirror every day that startles me from time to time. Recently I have even noticed an age spot appearing on my face similar to one my dad had on his.

We lost dad 2 years ago, January 29, 2009. Here is the blog I posted that day - http://skiatooklakeokie.blogspot.com/2009/01/quiet-courage.html. He passed just over a month past his and Mom's 60th wedding anniversary and a 2 weeks shy of his 89th birthday. I miss him. I know my sisters and of course our mom does too.

Mark Chesnutt, on his album, "Rollin' With The Flow" has a cut, Man in the Mirror which makes me think of my dad. Here are the words:

I used to sit on a stool and watch him shave,
If my memory is right, I was seven or eight.
In the eyes of a child he was no less than great,
but time would prove anything could change.

'Cause he was too old fashioned when I was sixteen,
Not near as smart as my buddies and me.
But the only friend I'd grow up to need,
got called home just shy of sixty-three.

Now the man in the mirror looks so familiar,
He's wearin' that same crooked smile.
Same lines of worry, kids growin' up too early,
and gray hairs from extra miles.
I thought I'd never see him again,
but little did I know I'd turn into the man in the mirror.

Now I realize just how wise he was,
Sometimes without talking he still taught us.
His strong hands of justice would end with a hug,
He knew nothing was stronger than the power of love.

I can truthfully say that I know how he felt,
'Cause just the other night when my son needed help,
When I fixed his little plane with the one piece left,
He looked at me in a way I never saw myself.

Now the man in the mirror looks so familiar,
He's wearin' that same crooked smile.
Same lines of worry, kids growin' up too early,
And gray hairs from extra miles.
I thought I'd never see him again,
but little did I know I'd turn into the man in the mirror.

I thought I'd never see him again,
but little did I know I'd turn into the man in the mirror.