My Dad and I Could Teach Congress a Thing or Two

“I have wondered at times what the Ten Commandments would have looked like
if Moses had run them through the US Congress.” 

~Ronald Reagan

"We need not think alike to love alike."

~Francis David

My father was a Santa Barbara County Sheriff's officer on the night of February 25, 1970 when war protesters burned down the Isla Vista branch of the Bank of America. He was in the thick of it, trying to maintain some semblance of order in the chaos of that night.

I was seven years old. The Vietnam War was the soundtrack to my childhood, something that hummed along in the background but did not capture my attention much. I did not connect the protests and riots going on in Isla Vista with Vietnam. The war was something that happened on TV. The riots, however, were in my backyard. And my dad was there. When he put on his Sheriff's uniform or went under cover and headed into Isla Vista for work at night, I was afraid. My dad was not popular there. A flyer had been made and posted around IV with his picture and a caption that read "Not Wanted." We had to change our phone number when we started receiving threatening phone calls. And my mom slept with a loaded gun while my dad was at work. My parents protected my little sister and me from most of these details, but I was old enough to know my dad was in danger, old enough to be afraid.

My dad may have been a tough cop, but he was putty in my hands. I learned early on that if my mom said no to dessert or an extra half hour of TV, my dad would say yes. At a time when lots of fathers left most of the parenting to mothers, my dad was hands on. He was playful and affectionate and I worshiped him. He built me a beautiful playhouse in the backyard. He took me for rides on his motorcycle (no helmet, of course). He made sure we got hot fudge sundaes at Foster's Freeze on Friday nights, even if I hadn't eaten my vegetables. He was the parent I ran to when I was upset. When my parents divorced when I was nine, I was devastated. With undying loyalty and devotion to my dad, I blamed the entire thing on my mother (who took my wrath with selfless grace). In my adoring eyes, my dad could do no wrong. 

In my freshman year of high school, I had a student teacher for Social Studies who had been a UCSB student during those Vietnam protests in Isla Vista. For the first time, as he told stories of sit-ins and other peaceful protests he'd been involved in, I had a face to attach to those war protesters. I liked this teacher and the more he taught us about Vietnam, the more I found myself sympathizing with the protesters. My world began to shift off its axis as I found myself questioning my father's role during those turbulent times. For the first time in my life, I wasn't sure I agreed with my dad.  Of course, I was young and was looking at this issue through a very black and white lens. Years later I would realize that my dad's job was to defend order regardless of his feelings about the war. But when I was 14, the possibility that I might not agree with my dad rocked my world.

Little did I know this was only the beginning. As the years went by I migrated farther to the political left as my dad became more conservative. My dad loved Ronald Reagan, something I just could not comprehend. While still with the Sheriff's Department, he headed a security detail when Reagan was at his Santa Barbara ranch. He has a glowing letter from Reagan himself commending him for his fine work. I, on the other hand, supported Jerry Brown in one of his bids for the presidency. My dad and I have never once voted for the same presidential candidate. Yet, earlier this month, when Barack Obama won his second term on my birthday, my dad posted on my Facebook page, "I'm glad your candidate won just for your birthday."

And you know what? He meant it. Because here's the thing: My dad and I have always looked past our differences and straight at the love that binds us together. On one level, we have very different values. He's is a Christian and a conservative Republican. I am an Agnostic Unitarian and a liberal Democrat. But we have never let these differences knock us off the common ground we stand on. My dad is still one of my heroes. He's a good man who fiercely looks out for the people he loves and cares about the world. He has accepted and loved me without question, no matter how nuts he may think my politics or religion are. 

We do not try to change each other, my dad and I. We know in our bones that we can disagree with each other AND love each other. We will always have each other's backs and pull together for the important things. Because we know that what binds us together is much greater than what divides us. My dad and I could teach congress a thing or two, don't you think?

Happy Birthday, Dad

I love you