Understanding, at Last, a ‘Rich Man’s Family

It was shortly after our daughter, Lisa Marie, was born that someone congratulated me and said, “Now, you have a rich man’s family.” It was one of those compliments you accept with a smile then wonder, “What does that mean?”
Lisa came into our lives about six years after her brother, Scott. He had thoroughly enjoyed being “top dog” in the limelight winning everyone’s affections, and then came a squalling infant sister into the house. The spotlight shone elsewhere for the very first time. That was a period of adjustment for him as well as Anna and me, we survived as families have done and will do in similar circumstances. Could that be what the chap meant about having a “rich man’s family?”
Thankfully, there was always a loaded camera (with film, remember that stuff?) handy to record the little girl growing up in our house. Confession being good for the soul, Scott’s album was far thicker than Lisa’s, because the first-born is like year’s first snowfall, pictures of everything. While there were many photos of Lisa and her antics, like sitting in a wash basket or wearing Dad’s boat-like slippers, there were fewer than of her brother.
There is one Christmas tree ornament that survived the decades and always finds a place on a bough. It is of an angelic-like brother and sister. To this day, although both are adults, I picture them as they were in that little photo from some Christmas past. Maybe that partly adds to being a “rich man’s family.”
Interspersing the years were those seemingly eternal weekly dance classes and annual recitals in spring, dutifully attended so we might watch a growing lass jump, jiggle, tap and sway across the stage. It is as much a part of parenthood as setting an example for our young to follow.
After those years came others when our home was filled with wondrous sounds of a flute being practiced. I loved that sound, and still do. It was an enchanting woodwind tone, never harsh of offensive. In the kitchen, there was always a stern mother urging, chiding, scolding and praising Lisa on her work with that magical instrument. Like dancing, it seemed treks to the music teacher’s house, and then waiting the allotted practice time, would never end. They took place in rain and heat, snow and fog.
Did such times help to make this a “rich man’s family?”
Then, as many Middle Township Panther Marching Band parents will recall, there was another chapter to be written. It was when our Lisa learned; starting in summer’s heat and humidity, when gnats were awful and dust was choking, to not only play the flute and piccolo, but to march in myriad directions whilst in pursuit of a trophy and banner that would hang in the high school music room.
Weekends were spent on the road to places I never knew existed. I learned where Geet’s Diner was in Williamstown, and that was where we turned for one field of competition. There were competitions upon competitions, and don’t forget “chapters” meets in seemingly sub-zero temperatures on aluminum bleachers. All in preparation for the pilgrimage to Scranton, Pa., which was, at the time, like Mecca for high school musicians seeking an Atlantic Coast title in the Tournament of Bands.
In a blur followed graduation, then college, moving “stuff” to a Richard Stockton State College dorm, then home, then back, upstairs, lugging, sweating, getting the room set up. Connecting a new computer (because the old Mac wouldn’t do it) to a thing called the Internet was a gut-wrenching chapter. Next came cell phones that didn’t work unless the call was made out in the courtyard. What did all that have to do with a “rich man’s family?”
After years of study, some at Thomas Edison State College at home, Lisa decided her time in academia was done. Thus she embarked on a collegiate hiatus in favor of a job that paid money.
Since then, there have been some good days and some terrible ones interspersed, but I am finally beginning to realize what it’s like being a “rich man.” You see, on Saturday, this “rich man” will reap the “dividends” when, clad in a tux, I will have the distinct honor and pleasure of walking “down the aisle” and “giving away” that little girl in the Christmas tree ornament to her beau, Christopher Clifford.
She showed me the dress she’ll wear on her wedding day, and it’s simply stunning. No “rich man” could ask for anything more beautiful.
To be sure, Lisa has many of her mom’s graces. In time, she’ll get to use all those cooking pots and baking pans and kitchen gadgets, and exercise household management skills just like her mother. She’ll do fine, she has a great teacher.
As father of the bride, I look forward with great anticipation to dancing with my “little girl.” We’ll dance for a few short minutes, when a lifetime of thoughts will flash through our minds: birthdays, holidays, vacations, happy times, sad times, learning to parallel park between utility poles and other great moments. When the dance is over, it’s just beginning for Lisa and Chris. I wish them a happy home, years of togetherness, and, if God grants, Chris will someday hear those same words, “Congratulations, now you have a rich man’s family.”
Finally, I know what that means!