The Amazing Superdad

Everything I learned about perseverance and adaptability, I learned from my dad. 

Dad grew up on a farm, and he had his wild moments as a teenager. At 16, a joy ride with a friend cost him his right arm in a crash at speeds of over 110 mph, smashing into telephone poles a football field apart.  His friend, the driver, walked away unscathed.  My dad had to learn to use his left arm for everything, and I'm sure it wasn’t an easy road, as he is naturally right-handed (and left-brained). 

As a kid, my sister and I were endlessly fascinated by Dad’s artificial arm and by his supplementary hook for work around the house.  We would sit on his lap and put a finger between his plastic ones, and he would pretend to “snap” his fingers together, causing us to squeal with delight.  When he would take the arm off at night, Tracey and I would sit on the bed and try it on and attempt to make it move by touching the sensor.  Later, his grandchildren got the same lesson about people with disabilities – they’re just the same as everyone else. 

I remember when my very first date, Simeon Lanier Archer III (who could forget that name?) picked me up at the house, and Dad reached out with his left hand to shake Lanier’s hand.  I was so nervous I didn’t notice the handshake.  In the car, Lanier asked me about my Dad’s hand and I told him about the accident.  Most people didn’t know someone with an artificial arm or leg, and everyone has questions.

When my dad flies commercially, he has always had to endure a more thorough pat-down and check because of his arm.  Since 9/11, it's even more thorough, and I think my dad opts to drive more often than fly, especially now that he has a knee replacement.   As much as I hear people in my industry complain about the pat-downs, I have never heard my dad say a word about it.  He knows how it works and he takes it stoically and without complaint.

Dad has never defined himself by his missing arm.  I have never heard him say "I can't" or feel sorry for himself.  Not ever.  There are a few things my moms helps him with, like buttoning the sleeve on his left arm, or tying his shoes, but other than that he can do it all. 

Dad’s may only have one and a half arms, but he has more love and strength in those limbs than many people do in two whole ones. Happy birthday, Dad.  I love you more than ever.