My father, who I believe is the epitome of living live genuinely, is notably not what many people would consider a success. For example, he dropped out of high school in the 10th grade. Has been a mechanic for the City of Philadelphia, and the SEPTA all his live. He works hard, with long nights and mandated overtime when it snows. He goes to work each day, to a place that most of us would never consider an ideal working environment. He lives in a small row home in North Philadelphia, not a dangerous neighborhood, but not one you want to walk around in wearing an iPod, or at night (I guess that actually is dangerous). But my father has never made excuses and makes the best out of his situation.
He works hard, harder than I do, and performs beyond expectations, consistently wowing his peers with incredible innovation in his work. Outside of Mr. Paul, the name thrown around the shop to describe my father is MacGuiver. He keeps fire trucks and police cars on the road, and while that may not seem like a big deal, he, and I, find a great deal of pride in that. While no one would say he is living in the lap of luxury, he is somewhat comfortable. I find him to be incredible, and he said he was proud of me.
As cliche as it may be, I think my Dad is my hero. It is a constant that you have pride in your heroes. It is something special when your heroes have pride in you.
No comments:
Post a Comment