My eulogy to my father
9:46 PM | 05-09-09

James R. Traub
11/23/1942 - 5/6/2009

I have to tell you, I recently got into an argument with someone
because I said something about it being irresponsible for an adult to
blame their parents for the way they turned out. Yep, that’s me, able
to leap over diplomatic boundaries with a single phrase. I got that
from Dad, that tendency to occasionally make statements which were,
however true, a little on the blunt side.

I want to talk about how Dad affected the way I turned out and how I’m
thankful that he was my Dad. Here’s how I see it: when we’re born,
we’re like an empty attic. Throughout our childhoods the people around
us—parents, brothers and sisters, grandparents, aunts, uncles,
friends, friends’ parents, etc.—each add things to the attic:
interests, behaviors, encouragements and discouragements, all the
things good and bad, big and small, that, for better or for worse make
us who we are. By the time we’re in our twenties the attic is pretty
full: not only do we have the contributions of our early influences,
but now we have our own interests and experiences stored there too.
It’s time to look through our boxes of retained messages, lessons
learned, and emotional baggage, make what’s worth keeping for ourselves and get
rid of the rest.

In 12-step programs we would call this taking inventory, but for the
sake of a broader audience I’ll say it’s time to play “keep, toss,
give away.”

My father wasn’t perfect; no one is. Rifling through the Dad Box in my
personal attic I find experiences of every color, but it’s what we
make of the stuff that we’re given that counts. I have also inherited
several of his more…questionable traits. Recently I was told that when
life hands me lemons I make wicked good lemonade, so here goes:

There was the time my dad and I went to the copper country mall and
like every other Saturday, we went shopping. I almost never left the mall
without a new toy. As usual, I couldn’t wait to get home and tear
open the box. However, this time I would have to wait. As we walked
out into the parking lot, we reluctantly realized that not only did my
father lock his keys in the car, he also left the motor running. Later. In
college, the local police officers came to know my name, not because I was in
trouble, but because of the frequent phone calls of “I locked my keys
in the car” would reach them. However, I never locked my keys in the
car WITH the motor running. Some things never change, some do.

I don’t know that I ever said I wanted to be just like Dad when I grew
up, but in many ways I am like him. As a kid, there were rules of life
constantly reminded such as

“Always be aware of your surroundings”
Apparently I forgot that important lesson because I managed to back
into a honey locust tree my first week of college while unloading my
stuff into my college dorm.

“Diet caffeine free Pepsi”

“believer that he was the sole creator of the Pepsi Shirley temple”

“Salt on green apples”

“Standing on his toes and dancing around the house.”

“The letter from camp that came a year later, after I swore I wrote to
him at camp”

“Searched the US for the pink Barbie motor home”
Always save the best for last (xmas presents)

The day I learned how to ride my bike, my dad thought it would be a
good idea to go to a big church parking lot, what could possibly
happen? Right? As I was circling around and around faster and faster,
I managed to lose control barely missing a tree and having what was
my first and last
bike accident. There’s always a lesson. And as we slowly “walked”
back to my father’s house, he taught me another lesson and related it
to life. No matter how open the land may be, and there’s no stopping
you, and if you think its ok to go faster and faster, eventually
something or someone will stop you, and its better to have a lighter
ending than a speeding crash on your first two wheeler without
training wheels.

There’s always a bond between fathers and daughters that’s untouchable.
These are just a few of my memories from my “attic of my dad”, and I
encourage each of you to do what I will do: Search through your attics of
memories and cherish those special ones of my dad, Jim Traub, that you may have.

I love you daddy. I*ll love you forever.

DiRty StuFf || All ClEaN!!


ConTacT Me
AIM: happylilbunny17

Time: 9:46 PM
Date: 05-09-09
Eating:Nothing :/
Wearing:Clothes, I hope!
Hearing: Typing
Reading: Papers
Chatting w/: No one
Thinking: too much.
Wanting: so much.

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Meter Thanx for commin!! *MUAH*
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