On a Quiet Night, Remembering Dad : There is a place in every child’s life that only a father can fill.

I think my dad was a hero. Who doesn’t? In between the periods when I hated him, I thought he was a hero. And I do today.

He was born before the Depression, trapped in an Old World mentality, and through some tremendous trick was forced to deal with an entirely new one. Think about it. When my dad was in his late teens, he was dancing to Jimmy Dorsey and Glenn Miller. When he had a son in his late teens (only 25 years later), he had to endure the Beatles, the Rolling Stones and the Who. The Stones, the Who and three-quarters of the Beatles are still touring. Dorsey and Miller were gone before my dad was 25.

See what I mean? The world changed faster for him. No wonder he never said anything. His life was a constant fast-forward. Still, I wish he had said something I could remember on a quiet night like this.

But my old man (I used to hate it when he called himself that; now that’s all I can call him) weathered the storm. He handled the sexual revolution. (Once, in the car, he asked me if I needed to know anything about girls. I said no. We were both relieved.) He handled the drug craze. (This was a no-brainer: I went to Catholic school where they scared the hell out of you to the point where you would never even think about taking any kind of a drug.) And he handled me growing up. So when I think of my old man with that look on his face like he wasn’t quite sure exactly where he was, I think of him as a hero.

To be honest, my dad would have been lost without my mom. She was always the rock; strong enough to tie your ship to, but soft enough to stretch out on and take in a Cape Cod breeze. She was the one who went over spelling, vocabulary, history, math. My dad (like most men) would never have survived without my mom. She was his eyes and ears. She was his chief-of-staff. She decided what went to him and what didn’t. It was important to stay in good with my mom. My dad made the money, but mom knew where it went. She was at the play rehearsals, the bake sales, the school picnics. She even hit batting practice to my little league team. My mom was the heart and soul of our family when I was growing up.

So why am I sitting here, thinking of my dad tonight?

It’s because, no matter how incredibly wonderful a mother is, there is a little place in every boy’s life that only a dad can fill. Even if he never lives up to expectations, even if he hasn’t a clue about it, even if he goes through life looking like he doesn’t know where heis half the time, somehow the boy fits him into a memory of having done a great job.

I have four children. I try every day to let them know how much I love them. Because I know that there will be nights like this for them, when they’re all alone, it’s quiet, and they’ll be thinking about their old man.