Solid Stripes

Several nights prior to the day I married my wife I laid in my bed and watched a nature documentary about Plains Zebras. It was numbing (which is not a bad thing leading up to a wedding), but surprisingly pertinent. Zebras are very social creatures and have developed elaborate structures for their relationships. Stallions maintain harems and keep bachelor males away from their mares. The fathers protect their female offspring as well, but eventually the girls become interesting to young stallions looking to start their own harems. For the father to keep his daughter from breeding would do the species no good but, dad being a dad, not any old stallion will do for his little girl. So it seems a ritual takes place that pits the young upstart against the old man. The father, to test the fitness of the young suitor, takes him to the mat, so to speak. Papa and the potential fiance mix it up. The object is not to cause any serious harm but to make certain that the boy has what it takes to provide for and protect the light of daddy's life. If the young stud fails the test, he gets kicked to the curb - "Not with my daughter, you don't!" But if he meets the father's criteria in this dust-up, the old man will agree to trot her down the aisle, step aside, and maybe hand the mother a tissue.

The day after watching the zebra doc my future in-laws dropped by, having arrived the day before for the impending nuptials. As we ate our lunch I brought up the striped equines and their story to everyone. When I finished relating the details of the suitor test I turned to my future father-in-law and asked if a little mano a mano was on his to-do list. He smiled, paused for a moment, and said quietly, "No. I don't think so."

My father-in-law is a quiet man, stoic and unemotional. When he is thanked for any of the number of good deeds he has performed for us he invariably brushes it off, uncomfortable with gratitude. A couple of years back, he paid off my wife's remaining student loans, not because we needed the help, not as a gift, but because he felt responsible for his daughter's education and, unable to pay for all of it while she was in school, he felt it was his responsibility now. In restaurants, he and I have often fought over the check, that sense of responsiblity more of a motivation than manly pride. It is responsiblity that drove his success.

A self-made man of the old school, he began managing a McDonald's and then overseeing several owned by one man. He moved up to become president of a small software company that was also owned by the McDonald's owner and eventually bought that company several years back. He is the hardest working man I have ever met, more often than not in the office on Saturdays and Sundays. He has a healthy stock portfolio, the product of disciplined and prudent investing. Before making any major financial decision, I always ask his advice because it is always good. For all that prudence and responsibility however, he would love to be, and could probably survive as, a profesional blackjack player. He's that good at it.

He has a deep love for his daughter, for his grandchildren, and for the blond jokes which he never seems to run out of, to our great dismay: What do you call four blonds at a four-way stop? Eternity. He and my wife play online Scrabble games that last about a week per game and invariably end with him whipping my lovely wife's behind. He can keep the Boy entertained for hours simply sliding a wad of paper back and forth on the dining table. He calls at least once a week, usually on the weekend, usually from his office, and if he leaves a message it is always the same one. I once saved several weeks of messages and played them back one after the other; they could have been the same one put on repeat - same words, same inflection. It's funny, but charming and comforting. The messages, like the man delivering them, solid, dependable, always there.

I like him, a lot. Though I think it would make him uncomfortable to hear it, I would be proud to call him my father. We have never had a heart-to-heart - that isn't his way - though I've often thought of starting one up with him just to watch him squirm. A couple of years back he asked me if I could find an obscure out-of-print song by an obscure 60's, South African, folk group for him. I searched the internet high and low and found nothing. When he visited this past Chrismas, while out to dinner one night (he got the check), I asked if he ever found that song. He said no. I woke early the next morning and started hunting for it. After a lot of searching I did find it. I burned it onto a disc and when he got to the house that morning I played it for him. His face lit up, "That's it! You found it!" It was a good moment for him, but a better one for me.

The day I married his daughter, with all the last minute details to look after, I didn't have time to talk with him much. Finally, while my wife was getting ready, and as my Best Man was straightening my tie, my very soon-to-be in-laws walked up to me. We chatted briefly, telling one another we looked nice, and then my mother-in-law asked me if I had noticed my father-in-law's tie. She pulled it from under his coat, flapped it in front of me and said he'd bought it that morning just for me. It took me a moment before I started laughing. It was zebra striped.

My father-in-law celebrates his birthday tomorrow. Happy Birthday, Dean, and thank you.