The other night I ran into a son of Mal Goode, who was one of my heroes. There are some people who had such an impact on our lives that they will always be alive.
We decided to have a beer and the conversation came up about our love and appreciation for our fathers, and during the conversation we began to reflect on those who felt the same way as we did. I realized that the privilege of writing a column afforded me an opportunity that the average person did not have, and that is why the spaces are in the caption so that the readers can insert their daddy’s names.
How do we define daddy as a real man? It has nothing to do with materialism, because daddy did the absolute best he could for his family and helped us to understand that richness is a state of mind not necessarily a state of being. A local college published a lie by stating that Blacks, by virtue of generally having low paying jobs, were so poor that it caused our brains not to grow. Daddy exposed that lie because he demonstrated that having a low paying job did not equate with being poor, so we never saw ourselves as being poor. Daddy always made sure we ate, had clothes, shelter and was the protector of his family.
I remembered that one of my friend’s fathers had a second job in Mt. Lebanon. It cost a dime round trip, but he would walk so that he would be able to better provide for his family which consisted of six children and a wife.
I remember the first Black Jew I met, Rabbi Barron, and he taught those who listened and paid attention that a real man stands up and demonstrates by precept and example.
Daddy instilled in his daughters that they could he a woman and a lady. He instilled in his sons the significance of responsibility for self and family. During my generation daddies usually did not have a high school diploma, but had degrees in mother wit, common sense and had attended the University of Social Realities.
Daddy, we all love you.
Please remember Kingsley Association.
(Louis Hop Kendrick is a weekly contributor to the Forum Page.)