Childhood and what is important in life.

When I was eight years old, my Dad was a Ford executive in Dearborn, Michigan.  He worked at the world headquarters, a building that was designed by whoever designed the United Nations building.  The elevator ended at the floor above the lobby, and the Ford executives took an escalator down to the lobby where Mom and my brothers waited to pick up Dad from work.  We waited until the strike of 5:00, and then the escalator expelled the executives, all dressed alike.  They had the executive haircuts, and they wore the executive suits, and they were all male.  It was an image of the assembly line that Henry Ford had created to satisfy his dream, but these were men, and they were headed home to be with their families.  Just the same, when they came down that escalator, it was an image of people created on an assembly line, and my young mind struggled to sort out Dad from the rest of the Ford executives.  Most of the time, Dad appeared before I spotted him, and we hustled out of the huge glass building in the sole family Ford.

I suppose that my rebellious attitude toward tradition and mindless obedience has something to do with that time, but I approach it with kindness and respect.  My father is the most moral and christian and humble person I have ever known. His approach to life is far apart from mine.; I am the rebel and the thinker, and he was the conformist and the follower, but neither approach to life is better.  I treasure his goodness, and the man that he was toward his wife and four sons, and he deserves all of the honor and respect that life can provide.


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