Happy Fathers Day

My dad deserves a monument.

I'm not talking about those popular "World Greatest Dad" paraphernalia,  although he is certainly worthy of a t-shirt or mug of that variety if he wants one. Nor am I talking about a nice plaque mounted in a prominent location for all the world to see.

No, I'm talking Lincoln-sized. A timeless tribute. A giant statue or a national park or, even better, a expansive garden named after him, with all of his favorite hydrangeas. Why?

Because you will not find a man of greater character, grace or wisdom between here and Texas.

I should know. For 25 years, I've been raised by this remarkable man, learning life lessons and skills at his knee, gaining new perspectives on old theological arguments and mastering the art of his perfect cinnamon sugar toast.

When I was little, I loved to go on errands with him in "the jazzy car", a car complete with seat warmers, awesome 80's interior and the glove compartment where he kept his fancy leather gloves during the winter time. The fun wasn't so much in the car as it was feeling all big and important traveling somewhere with my daddy.

He used to sing "Blue Moon" to my brother and I. We loved it. We would beg him to sing it again, and he would, over and over, until we were in stitches. It's from my dad that I learned all the words to Elton John's most popular songs by age 10, and developed a love of Crosby, Stills and Nash, the Beatles and James Taylor before I came to know about any other bands or musicians. I can still hear his voice harmonizing to the recording each time I listen. I couldn't tell you anything about today's top 40, but I can rattle off 70's rock artists without a thought.

I'm handy, thanks to him. He taught me how to paint a wall, sand a chair and refurbish a floor. With his own two hands and a set of do-it-yourself books, he remodeled a house, built a deck, built a sprinkler system and added a window. He's taught me that with hard work, tenacity, education and investment, anything is possible. He taught me how to give a firm handshake and look people in the eye, how to take responsibility for my finances and how to truly enjoy a portobello mushroom.

My dad was the one to instill in me and my family a love of food and dining. When I was little, he would bring my sister and I a roll of sweet tarts every Friday or when he came home from a business trip. That stopped as soon as the cavities started. He replaced that tradition with a new one, White Castle sliders and fries picked up on the way home from the airport, which we promptly pounced on and shared post-trips.

He taught me the sport of restaurant-ing, a game we still play today. From the wine to the appetizers, the restaurants and the ethnic cuisines, dining with my father is sport. We try new things and old favorites, always ending with coffee and dessert and a critique of the meal. There's nothing I like better than seeing my dad perusing a menu, turned towards the waiter and pointing out with a dramatic index finger what to bring to us and when. He has a wonderful tradition of taking his kids out to dinner if he's traveling for business near where we live, and it's always the same - a new restaurant, or an old favorite for a specific dish, and a phone call at the table to the unfortunate others who couldn't be there for the feast. He's traveling to Sacramento next week. Last time we tried a fantastic Spanish Tapas place. I'm currently researching our options.

Life with Bob Schumaker as my father has been grand. But there is more - much more than good music and great food, memories and tools.

No one else in my life has had more of an impact on my spiritual growth and character development than my dad.

My dad's life is a tale of redemption. He has risen above a generational battle of alcoholism. Without the example of a great father, he became one, pursuing my mom's heart daily as they raised three great kids together as a team. He took risks, running for political office then changing careers with a young family and a baby on the way. Through hard work and determination, he worked his way up from the car factory to the corner office, and yet there was a never a question where his priorities lie. He loves his family. When Emily or Mark had a basketball game back-to-back with a work trip, he was on the red eye flight that night. When I was in a play, he was there for all 6 performances, center row.


He has always given me the room to make my own decisions and mistakes, and always there to talk through the struggle. He's ever ready to give insight into life's problems and situations, identifying perspectives, choices and giving encouragement. His wisdom into life complexities has not only directed me through dark times, but helped to shape my own believes and perspectives. He has a great laugh. He tells the most wonderful jokes. And he is a man after God's own heart, teaching me more about the nature of grace and person of Jesus Christ than anyone else I've ever known.

And so, I believe that this remarkable man, this excellent Father, deserves a monument for his character, his humor, his wisdom, and his life.

For these things, and many more...

I love you, Daddy.

Happy Father's Day.