“The righteous man leads a blameless life, blessed are his children after him.”
Prov. 20:7 NIV
The earliest remembrance of my father that I have is his laughter. Born May 19, 1924, John Washington McSwain, Sr., my dad, would have been 98 years old. No longer with us, the memories of my father make me happy and sad. Sometimes when I think of him I cry; and other times when I think of him I smile. Then there is the outburst of laughter when I remember the time that he tried to teach my mother how to drive. And there is the roaring sound of his own laughter; a small man with a big voice.
I can honestly say that I have never seen my father angry. Nor have I ever heard a harsh word come out of his mouth. Ever present even when he was not home, he was there. Married to Catherine she was the disciplinarian, but he was the leader in our home. He provided and she let him. He loved her. They loved us and altogether we were family. My father was an insurance man; the one who came knocking at your door to collect the insurance money. Always with a pad, pencil, and pocket protector, Mister Mac was well-received and loved by everyone. His job gave us notoriety in the small town of Troy, Alabama. Everybody knew Mister Mac.
As I grew older it was my dad who was the example to me of what of what a man should be. He respected his wife, took care of his children, and provided and protected our home. When I look back I think it must have been hard being a Black man during Jim Crow days in Alabama during the early 50’s and 60’s, but I have no recollection of how the times impacted him. A Deacon and church Trustee, I know he was a praying man. He was the second eldest of five children, and he always honored his parents. We went to church together and on Sundays, after church, we would all pile into his blue 1956 Chevy and drive to the country to see Papa and Momma Flora. My mom wasn’t always happy about it, but we would stay the whole afternoon and then drive home. He not only took care of us, he saw to the needs of his parents too. They called him “Brother.”
There is so much more that I could say about my father and in reflecting on the upcoming Father’s Day I wanted to create a space where each of us could do the same. It’s a time to honor our fathers. When I think about it, it’s truly an awesome job to be responsible for the well-being of a family; to make the commitment often putting aside personal dreams, and goals, for the family. We make bones about it with those who don’t, but we don’t give enough credit to the ones who do.
Men are not as vocal as women, and it is very rare that you will hear a Black Man truly open up and tell you how he really feels. The daily grind is real, and we know that Black Men have to be twice as vigilant as the next man. No excuses, but too many of our men are incarcerated. Too many of our homes are led by women raising children where there is no father. It’s not that they don’t make men like my dad anymore, it’s just that the times seem to dictate their loyalty to other things. Moms are doing a great job, but even they will tell you that they need some help.
Character traits are refined in the pressures of life much like diamonds, and under the watchful eyes of moms and dads. It’s where we’re taught to say, ‘Please and Thank You;’ It’s where we’re taught to learn how to wait. It’s where we’re taught to work hard. When we watch our parents, even our dads, we become more like them. This Father’s Day, let’s focus on the positives. Let’s hug our dads for real. Let’s encourage our men. Let’s pray for them. My dad is gone, but his presence lives on in me, and in my children.