an open letter to my dad, john thomas cliver, sr

Dear Dad:

Happy Father’s Day! I hope you are having a good one.

You were a good father. I wanted to take this time to write you a note telling you about a few of the things I remember that made an impression on me. There are things you taught me that I will carry with me to the grave, values that you gave me, impressions that you made.

I remember you coming in and playing cars when I was little. I was pretty young, but you got down on the floor and played with the cars. It impressed me that one so great would come down to play with a little boy.
To this day, I can still remember that.

You worked hard one day sawing out wooden machine guns for Gerald and me. We paid no real attention to what you were doing, just something like you ordinarily did. Then you presented us with wooden machine guns. We played with them for a long time. I don’t know what happened to them, but they were fun.

We went into a café and had dinner. I may have been 10 or so. On the way out, a man told you we looked like fine boys, I remember that you almost swelled up with pride.

We wanted to mow yards and a guy had us come and mow his yard. You went over and helped him do something in his garden primarily because he helped us in our jobs.

You taught me to drive. I would hold the steering wheel on your 1956 red and white Plymouth station wagon as we drove and then I even drove it some. It had a push button transmission. You taught me to drive a standard shift. I drove your black 1955 Ford pickup. You also gave me the chance to drive your 1958 light blue Buick Special, to me still this day a beautiful car. I took my first girl friend somewhere in that car.

You helped me find my first car, a 1962 Mercury Meteor. It had a dent in the back fender. Then you came to Houston to fix my clutch when it went out when I was looking for a job.

You always came up with some money when I needed it. You were always there when I needed advice, even after I got older.

I remember seeing how sun burned you were, wearing your black t shirts. You were the physically strongest man I knew. I know how hard you worked getting money for us, even working construction on your vacation.
One day Gerald and I rode our bicycles out to meet you after work and you took us home in the Plymouth.

I remember the look on your face when I was drafted. I came in the door after taking money out of pay phones in Texas City. I usually came to get a glass of iced tea or something, really just to connect, and you handed me the letter from the Selective Service telling me to report for duty.

I went into the army and came out of the army both the week you were directing Camp Mohawk.

I remember you marrying us in 1971 at Sun Valley Church of Christ.

I remembering going to HOPES with you one semester in the early 1970’s and we had a chance to sit together in class.

You were always glad to see me when I came home.

And I was always glad to see you.

What you tried to teach me: Honor, responsibility, love for God and my church, love for my family, duty to my country, honesty, integrity.

I didn’t learn some things as well as I should have, but I have always held you in highest esteem. You gave me a picture of God the Father that most didn’t get: one who was self-sacrificing and loving.

We didn’t always see eye to eye and disagreed a lot, but you could not have been a better father.

I have always tried to be the kind of father to my children that you were to me.

And I love you.

Happy Father’s Day.