A Christmas Letter to my Dad

Dear Dad:

It seems strange to write a letter to you like this. I mean, you’ve been gone now for the last two Christmases--this will be the third since you passed--and in many ways, life has moved on...as you told me it would, years ago. It's also strange to write this because you and I wrote each other very little.

And yet, tonight after Deena had gone to bed early, and I was wrapping the Christmas gifts, I found myself thinking of you. 

It still seems strange sometimes to go back home and not see you there. (Though there is a nice comfy chair there you’d love, I’m sure.) It’s really hard this time of year; I remember all the years you took pictures of us kids at the top of the stairs...and the year we all beat you to it. That flash had to be visible for a three mile radius! I remember bit and pieces from both birthdays and Christmases past: The 100 in 1 electronic kit, the Starfleet Academy manual (and Enterprise blueprints), and all the LEGO are still in my possession. (As well as more electronics, Star Trek books, and even LEGO than I ever thought I’d own in a lifetime.) Making stuffing, and having you taste it. Trips to Helen and Louie’s in the motor home. (Or, as Amy put it, “Barbie’s Dream Home.”) 

I’ve tried to hold up my end of the bargain. I promised to be a good son and watch Mom for you. I’ve tried to keep an eye on Mom without being a pest. You’d be proud of her; she gets around pretty good these days. She’s active enough, gets out of the house, and drives. She flies on her own, too. 

When we went to the Big Island, we had a GPS you’d have laughed at. My little unit butchered every Hawai’ian name. We all still laugh about it. (That, and trying to find Diamond Lil’s in Salt Lake City.) 

I’m still helping clean up the house as well...I’m going to want to discuss with you some of the more interesting findings. For example, I know you knew nobody was using serial bus ports on computers; USB connections work so much better. So why were there, what--a half dozen or so?--adaptors for serial busses? Plus the cables? 

I don’t even want to know why there were hundreds of 5 1/4 inch floppies. I do want to know where you hid the slides. Part of my early life is on those, and I’d really like to rediscover part of that. 

So many things. I know all the medals you earned in the Navy. I wish I knew how you earned them all. You never really talked about them, or much else of you Navy time. I understand why as a vet myself. I also never knew you cared much for baseball, much less were a Yankees fan. I know you never totally understood my tastes in music. (That’s okay...I never totally understood yours, either.) But you did instill a love of good music, which means I’ll never like rap. 

I also know you never could quite figure out what I saw in some of the girls I dated. That’s cool; you weren’t dating them...I was. You and Mom taught me to look past certain things, and see the person inside. I learned to see certain qualities I knew you and Mom didn’t see. That’s okay too. (I’m still trying to get the “being a good husband” thing down as well, and I am wondering if I’ll ever get it right. Even approaching 19 years of marriage--after 4 years of dating on top of that--I’m still trying to get things right.)

You’ve missed seeing me with the quartet. We have fun, and we do reasonably well. (We are getting better every week.) You watched me compete with barbershop choruses at all levels, yet due to work/guests from out of town (I don’t remember which) missed the only Command Performance I ever had in both intermediate and high school. That was hard for me to understand at the time. There were other things I never understood: how you could solve algebra in your head, and I couldn’t get the same answer twice. (And then there was the time I got one answer, you had another, the book had a third...and my instructor got a fourth answer and none of them matched.)

I remember when you told us as a family we might have a chance to live in Europe while you would be in the Middle East. As much as the education I would have gotten would have been a benefit, given the way things have turned out in the Middle East, it’s better that deal fell through.

You taught me to honor my commitments, even when not a pleasant thing to do. I guess that’s part of what pulled my butt through Moody and TEDS: I made a commitment, and by gar I wasn’t gonna quit. (No matter how badly I wanted to turn tail and run.) 

You taught me how to change a tire, spark plugs, headlights and taillights, several wiring harnesses, my own oil and oil filter, and the fuel filter. These days, I’m lucky if I can find the latch to open the hood. Changing my own oil is out of the question...no place to dump it. You also taught me to use the right tool for the job. 

In some ways, that’s a lesson I’m still learning; again this year I cut the wrapping paper for the gifts with my Swiss Army Knife. (Some things never change.) You’d have been proud of me. Yes, I still have a knife that weighs a ton. But hey--I’ve carried Swiss steel since 1976-77ish. Why stop now? 

As much as I miss you, though...I wouldn’t dream of asking you to come back here, even for a minute so I could say goodbye properly. Not only have you earned your rest, I couldn’t be that selfish to take you away from the presence of God Himself. 

And that brings me back to Christmas, and wrapping gifts. Yes, we celebrate the birth of Jesus this time of year. Knowing you’re with Him has helped--and continues to help--me deal with the fact you’re not going to be home for Christmas. It’s been hard to not find you something. I miss sending you e-mails and swapping jokes and puns. 

Mostly, though...I just miss you.

I’d better sign off now. It’s late, and I need to get some sleep. Give my love to everyone there. 

Love,

Matthew

A few thoughts over Memorial Day

It’s Memorial Day weekend. I have a lot of things to be thankful for. (So do you, for all that.) Many brave men and women have died--and many more have served our country through our Armed Forces--to secure our rights and liberties. This includes the right of free speech, which I will warn you, I am about to exercise rather vigorously.

Since this is blog is probably being read and monitored somewhere by some soulless, nameless bureaucrat because of my beliefs, then Uncle Sam, please mark my file as follows: "Right-wing, conservative male with occasional liberal leanings. In fact, I am white, male, conservative, Republican, straight, still married to my first wife--a woman I love and respect--and I am Christian above all. I work for a Bible School, and have serious Christian beliefs. I read my Bible and the daily news, just because I can. My beliefs shape my vote, not dictate it. I drive an import, because Detroit hasn’t made a decent car since the Dodge Gold Duster--and isn’t likely to anytime soon just because you asked them to. I voted for John McCain in the last election, and in fact have voted Republican in every election since 1984. I'm white, not "Euro-American"...please. I feel that cutting the Fine Arts in our schools is a crime. Music and Art and Drama are required to be well-rounded citizens. I also feel that vouchers for school should be the law of the land. I do not care for Nancy Pelosi, Al Franken, Joe Biden or Left-wing radicals. I don’t watch much basketball, golf, or NASCAR. I am a Navy vet, with Naval Anniversary medal and Cold War victory medal. I do not own, nor do I want, a gun. I am sick and tired of everything having to be “green.” I listen to Praise and Worship music, Southern Gospel music, and worship the Lord God Almighty and His Son, Jesus Christ. I have been in attendance at five Promise Keeper events-with my wife’s blessings. I own cats, and do not care for most dogs. I do not trust Richard Geithner OR the Office of Homeland Security. I want less government, a truly free-market system with reasonable checks and balances, and a flat-rate income tax. I want the government out of the education business, except to fund college educations, and believe that those paying student loans should have their loans forgiven after five or six years of repayment. I want every teenager, at high school graduation or age 18 if they’ve dropped out, to enroll in a branch of the military for a minimum four year hitch, to assist in paying for said education. I suspect I have an IQ higher than than the President, VP and the Secretary of State...combined. I believe in free speech and a free press, but I also advocate returning to the Family Hour(s) on TV...including all cable channels. I see premarital and extramarital sex as being wrong, and so I'm not in favor of abortions either here or overseas. In fact, we have no business telling other countries how to handle the abortion issue at all. We should be stressing control of our hormones and abstinence; after all, our parents could control themselves as teenagers. We need to control, if not end, porn and gambling on the internet. The Wall Street bailout, credit relief plan, and TARP are all wrong. People being responsible for their own actions, including paying their bills, is what made America strong in the first place. The government running Bank of America, Citibank, GM and AIG is A Bad Thing. It is worse if you insist on running them like you have Amtrak, the USPS, the VA and NASA. I am more than a social security number...I am a free person. I am also a thinking man, and therefore you should probably consider me dangerous. I do not play well with others, and I refuse to conform to the values of this world."

Happy Memorial Day. Say thanks to a vet this weekend.

Enough for now.

(Posted 5/23/09)

On the passing of my father....

This is a blog I wish I didn’t have to write. God knows, I really didn't want to write this.

It is with great heaviness of heart that I announce the passing of my father, Dr. Carl (“Doc”) Crandall.

Dad had a dry sense of humor, and never failed to crack a joke whenever possible. He also was always very involved with us musically, supporting my sisters and I through Drum Corps, various choirs, marching bands, concert bands, vocal ensembles and so forth. In fact, his sense of humor came out when I first became a barbershopper; he paid my first year dues and told me not to tell Mom—and when she found out that he had done so, let us both know what she thought. (She has long since forgiven us; she felt that I should have paid it myself.)

He was born October 30, 1931, and died August 21, 2008. He served in the U.S. Navy, rising to the rank of Lt. Commander prior to his honorable discharge; after his discharge he worked for 30 years as an electrical engineer. He held four earned and one honorary doctorates, three masters degrees, five bachelors degrees, and an associates degree (and those were just the ones we found).

Some knew him as Lt. Commander. He was a man used to following orders when he was given them, and was equally used to having orders followed when he gave them. If space allowed, I could tell you the story of how he “improved” a four lane bowling alley until it was virtually new—with 20 lanes, and all within keeping to guidelines and orders, mind you. He loved and served his country, and believed in duty, honor, and country. He also believed in doing the right thing simply because it was the right thing to do. He instilled those beliefs in all he worked with.

Others knew him as Dr. Crandall. He never flaunted his education; instead, he used it for the betterment of many people. His mind helped a number of people deal with engineering issues that would have sent others scrambling for slide rules and computers. He more often than not did it in his head. There are numerous stories of engineering projects that he got called in on, from North Carolina to Hawai’i, and all over the west coast. He received his Ph.D in 1964.

I won’t go into all his accomplishments, but here are a few that he mentioned in his writings: 1935: Singlehandedly removed dashboard form father’s Model A with a large screwdriver; 1937: Skipped kindergarten and went directly into first grade; 1945: Salutatorian of grade school graduating class, won English prize, overcame stage fright and made first extemporaneous speech; and 1953: Had first date with future wife. He was also a school teacher, studied law and letters, international relations, as well as engineering.

Those that knew him a little better called him Doc. These were the ones that discovered his wicked, dry sense of humor. Limericks, puns, and shaggy dog stories were often told, much to his amusement. I can say that he loved a good joke or quip. He truly loved a good laugh, and always seemed to have something to fit the bill…or the miles.

These were also the people that discovered that he had a large heart, probably too big at times, but always well meaning. He stood for treating everyone fairly, and respecting them not just to be respectful, but respecting them for who they were and what they believed in.

Some called him brother, cousin, uncle, or granddad. Mom was lucky to call him her husband. There are about two hundred or so band, choir, and drum corps folks who called him dad. I was one of three that was lucky, because he really was—and forever will be—my dad.

Dad had a number of other interests. Computers and electrical gadgets and widgets were always being built, taken apart, improved, and rebuilt. He impressed upon us kids the importance of finding something we liked, and following it. Judo, Drum Corps, dance, Barbershop and other forms of singing and music, photography, recording, gadgets and widgets, and even flying. Dad really was multifaceted, and that is reflected in our family.

Dad also firmly believed in education. That’s why all of us went to college. Even mom went on to school; and while they worked in tandem on education (just ask her about flash cards), dad also took interest and pushed us to go on for as much education as we could get. I know he ran interference for me at least twice in high school!

Dad loved a good meal. He loved to grill a good steak, and did so when he could. And if the grill didn’t work, he’d fire up his trusty Bernzomatic blowtorch. Oh, yes—he also loved tools, and had a shop full of them.

Dad wasn’t perfect. Far from it. He didn’t like to have his time wasted on useless things, worthless meetings, and the like. He once ran a unnecessary CVHS Music Booster meeting and completed it in less than ten minutes, my senior year. I brought him dinner that night, I was there for it and saw the whole thing such as it was. He also did not suffer fools gladly. I won’t go into that at all.

He was, however, a man of few words. I suspect he didn’t know just how much he was loved.

Father loved to travel. Places I know he went all over the world (outside of much of the United States, and some of these places he was stationed at) were places like Newfoundland, Scotland, England and Wales, Ireland, Taiwan, Guam, Canada, and Japan. And yet, as much as he loved to travel, he also loved coming home and resting in his comfy recliner after a good meal.

It was the trip to Japan that inspired me to study, informally, much of the Japanese culture—especially the popular culture—over much of my life, a study that continues to this day.

It is with this in mind, and in that spirit, that I leave you with this:

Sayonara, Papa-sama. Yo no nokori, nazenara anata ha anata no heiwa o e ta.

(Farewell, honored father. Rest well, for you have earned your peace.)

Enough for now.
(posted 9/3/08)