Father’s Day 2019

Dad passed away last week, so here are some thoughts for Father’s Day 2019.

When you’re the child of a public figure – even one in a specialized community such as the Presbyterian Church, your relationship can be, to use a social media term, “complicated”.

James Houston Hodges was the only child of two fine, upstanding people who valued education, the written word, and helping others. They were newspaper people, and my grandmother was sixth of six children (three boys and three girls) who all completed college – at a time when was not customary (and even more rare for women).

“Jimmy” was much beloved by his family, unable to escape the limelight and his parents’ high expectations. He had a few first cousins, all of whom seem to have been raised with the same high expectations. I recall Dad once told me he was encouraged to be a doctor or a minister, and these were the only paths he considered pursuing. Choosing his middle name in adulthood – and sometimes nicknamed “Hoot”, he never complained about not having siblings- in fact, there was time his mother needed nursing care, and I off-handedly mentioned I was sorry he didn’t have any siblings to help. He said he was not sorry, since he didn’t have to check with anyone before making decisions. Now my siblings (3 beloved brothers and a beloved step-brother) are making decision about my dad’s death and his wife’s future, and I can see Dad’s point. Even as open and close and loving and aligned as we are, it’s still hard work to be inclusive and ensure everyone is being heard and acknowledged. I have no complaints about the support, it’s just either one has its pros and cons.

So, who was Houston Hodges, and what is his legacy? Here are some thoughts from my perspective (in no particular order):

  • Dad was a minister – a believer and a scientist. He was an accomplished writer, self-avowed “word nerd”, and speaker. As a minister and counselor, Dad did a lot of good for a lot of people. He was proud of being an intellectual – much like his parents and aunts and uncles were. He loved word games, poetry, reading, and word forms like spoonerisms. He learned Greek and Hebrew through his religious studies but didn’t spent much effort with other languages – other than understanding word roots. He loved Jesus and God and loved writing for people and speaking to them. He believed in “intelligent design” and marveled at the wonders of physics, biology, chemistry, stars, planets. I was never interested in the books he read and recommended – way too obtuse for my interests. Even Tolkien – took me quite awhile to get there, even as a fantasy and science fiction fan myself.
  • Dad was a technologist. He was online before many of his kids were – in the 1980s – on Ecunet and Presbynet. He showed me how he dialed up to the “BBS” on his modem, so he could share messages with his pals and other people of faith in online communities. He absolutely loved technology. With others, really early on, he saw the potential of digital communication in debating, learning, growing, and sharing great ideas. He recorded over 70 pieces for the WLRH Radio “Sundial Writer’s Corner” radio show in Huntsville Alabama, and would have probably had his own podcast now.
  • Dad loved women. He commented once that he would be content to watch Meryl Streep make a peanut butter sandwich. In fact, Dad loved too many women too much for the health of his first marriage. His second wife turned out to be a wonderful partner for him, and a confidante and friend to me for many years.
  • Dad was ambitious. This meant long hours and lots of travel, many family moves for new and more prestigious jobs. We were never on one town more than about 6 years. My mother once told me she regretted that my brothers and I never “had roots”. I had never seen it as a negative; my brothers and I appreciated that moving around a lot made us much more comfortable in new situations, even if it wasn’t ideal for everyone. When you’re always “the new kid”, you get pretty good at introducing yourself (and seeking out the other new kids to make them feel welcome).
  • Dad loved baseball. He was also a killer raquetball player and loved his twice-daily walks (especially when he could coerce a son or daughter or grandson or granddaughter to join him, which he hoped would often lead to some deep conversation).
  • Dad rooted for the underdog, was a helper and people-pleaser. He always went for the team that was the worst in the league. He also loved preaching at tiny country churches where there was no regular minister. He was a helper. His parents and aunts and uncles were “helpers” and raised him to recognize his privilege and use it to lift others. I recall him telling me about knowing Sam Walton and his wife, who were generous Presbyterians and by all accounts lovely people – and telling me that they would be appalled at the current state of affairs at the chain of stores they opened (Walmart).
  • Dad was a cheapskate. (Some of us lovingly call ourselves “Cheap Scottish Bastards”.) No matter how many years he had phones with unlimited calling, we joked that Dad still had an egg timer by the Skype screen for our long-distance conversations. He knew how to save pennies.
  • Dad was a generous and progressive empath. On the flip-side of his thrift, he never balked about college expenses for four kids. He generously helped us travel to see him and each other. He gave to the church generously. He also loved and welcomed our boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives. He was open and affirming and accepting of people with different perspectives. His mother and aunts were very modern for their time and raised him to be future-looking. He was politically progressive – a feminist and human-rights advocate who espoused empathy and looking at issues from all sides. Dad was always generous in his assumption of good intent. Ironically, I recall learning recently that he was never interested in world travel. He traveled for work a lot in his mid-career as a Synod and Presbytery executive, but that travel was only U.S. and Canada. I asked him once about going to Israel to see The Holy Land, and he said it wasn’t of any interest to him. I have a bit of wanderlust which I got from Mom, and I find it curious when I meet someone who has no interest. Neither good nor bad; just curious.

On top of all that, Dad loved dogs, African violets, photography, fancy tea, owls (“Hoot”), cheese, smoking, wine, words, and fountain pens. He was all logic and love. (“Stop clicking the [damn] ballpoint pen, because it only has so many clicks, and you don’t want to wear it out.”). Dad cried when his favorite, decrepit recliner had to be thrown out – because it still had the place where our (long-since-deceased) family dog had rubbed it over many years.

Dad was not a great dad. Not that I was such a stellar daughter. Over the years, people have said to me that “it’s a shame” Dad and I weren’t closer. I see it much differently: we saw each other from time to time, enjoyed it, loved each other, expressed it, and stayed in contact. I decided very early on not to regret anything about the past, especially things I could not control. I have had a rich life experience, and where I am is a result of everything that I’ve experienced up until now. I’m extremely grateful for everything that I am because of him – nature and nurture.

I loved Dad in my way- and I know he loved me in his – a lot. One of my brothers remarked after Dad’s passing that he was trying to think of some great “Dad stories”, and just couldn’t come up with much. I had to agree – when we were growing up, Dad was working and helping people and gone a lot, so anecdotes are few. I’m still thankful for what he gave me, even if I can’t always pinpoint a moment. We all fondly recall, however, the game “Whutter”, where we were each coerced into naming “whutter” three things you enjoyed about an experience (usually a family vacation).

Mostly, I’m grateful for my brothers – all four of them – who wouldn’t be if it weren’t for Dad. We are the only people in the world who share the experiences we do, and I wouldn’t trade anything for that. My mom told me once that, despite an embarrassing and difficult divorce, she didn’t regret marrying my dad. In my youth, I was surprised by that comment. She explained: without that union, she wouldn’t have us kids she so loves.

As it turns out, both parents taught me to look at an issue from all sides, to have empathy for other points of view, and shared the enormous gift of gratitude.

Thanks, Dad.