My Dad's Personality and Our Interactions

My Dad did not show approval very easily. He was a rather somber man who expected the best from his students (he taught for over 30 years) and from anyone connected to him. He definitely expected the best from each of his children, and his approving smile or words were rare. There were a few occasions in which he could not control himself and allowed the circumstances to move him.

Let me describe one such incident. We had recently moved to Clearbook (now Abbotsford), BC to live with my grandfather (my mother’s dad) who was almost totally blind from diabetes. He was a wonderful man, but I digress.

A Wink Shows Humor

Because my grandfather did not have a car—I don’t think he ever had a car—there was no garage on the yard. Grandpa had built a nice shed for firewood, tools etc. but not for a car. We had a car and Dad thought we needed a garage. Soon we poured concrete, built walls and rafters. Then it was time to shingle the roof. Because Dad did not like to spend extra money, he purchased several asphalt rolls to cover the roof boards. Dad and I were up on the roof, my brother was on a small ladder seeking to push the roll onto the roof and also spread the roofing all at the same time. Bernie was having a horrible time because the roll kept slipping down.

The situation was actually quite humorous but our stoic dad would not crack a smile. Then, because the humor got to me, and my brother was getting more and more frustrated, my Dad could not resist—he turned to me and gave me the biggest wink anyone had ever seen. Nothing else, just a wink. I knew then that he had a sense of humor, no matter how far inside he had hidden it!  

 Using Dad’s Car

We moved to Clearbrook in the spring of 1957. Two things bothered me about that move. One: I had not been able to get my driver’s license before we moved, and two: I really wanted to finish my high school in Chilliwack, not elsewhere. But move we did, and I tried to make the best of it. I knew this move was to help my grandfather ijn his final years of life.

During the first year of living in Clearbrook, I managed to get my license. I did not have a car, but was able to use Dad’s. Dad thought that cars were utilitarian. His vehicles were often new cars, but with no features that might enhance any driving experience. To put it bluntly, Dad’s cars were the plainest on any lot! However, they got a person from point A to point B—an important reality for a teen!

The other thing that made my situation unique was that my Dad rarely used the currently owned car. In fact it got to the point where Dad would check with me to see if he could use the car. What a wonderful situation for me. Dad took care of all maintenance and kept the gas tank filled. We never really talked about this arrangement. It just sort of happened. I was privileged. Access to the vehicle meant that I could go out any time.

My Dad was not the most open person, but he did small things for his family without declaring himself a hero. This use of the car was a much bigger contribution than what we would have expected. I was the grateful recipient of this largesse from our Dad.

Music was Dad''s Forte and He Always had High Expectations

Dad taught music and directed choirs most of his life. Therefore Dad wanted his children to show the same perfection as he expected from all his music students and choir members. 

Many years after I left home and lived in the Los Angeles area. My wife and I felt good about our work and about our church involvements. I had even been chosen to lead the choir in our small church in San Fernando Valley. For Easter, we decided to work on a cantata. We knew it would mean hard work, but the choir members were excited at the possibilities. Because of our size, and because we really had few soloists, we carefully worked through the music and changed a number of solos to spoken words. Easter came and the choir felt ready to present this Easter cantata. 

It so happened that my parents came down for a visit at this time, and were ready to come to our church for the Easter service. After the service we talked about the church and the area  in which the church was situated. Dad seemed keenly interested in the area and how we might attract more people from the community. I wondered how he had felt about the music, and the choir's performance. Finally |I asked him what he had thought. For some reason he answered in Low German, "daut jinch" which when loosely translated meant, "It went."

This was one time when I wished Dad could have been more affirming. I knew I was not a polished director, but a positive comment would have made my day. Now, some sixty years later, I realize that Dad was giving me a compliment. He knew it had not been the best performance, but by saying what he did, Dad gave the highest praise that he could without going against his knowledge and experience. Yes, my Dad demanded the best from each of us, and when he thought the task had not been performed to his standards, he had a very difficult time giving a positive response. I realize this today. Unconsciously, I have always set up the standards of my Dad and wondered how he would grade my work. Dad had high standards; he wanted us to reach those high goals.