You Can't Measure a Man With a Yardstick

My father was an alien. No, really. Not only was he born in Scotland, making him alien to the United States; but by the time of his death, his viewpoints were so alien to mine that we could only talk about sports and the weather. He struggled throughout his life to provide my family with what it needed to thrive. Although I often disagreed with his logic, I always appreciated that he did what he thought was necessary to push my brothers and sisters and I in the "right" direction. He instilled in me a feeling that some day, I would be "Important". It took years for me to understand what he meant.
When I entered college, I was sure that some day, I would be "Important". I pursued a course of study in a young profession that would allow me a chance to become a "Big Name". For the first five years of my professional career, I did everything that was necessary to climb the ladder. Working long hours, continuing my education, and schmoozing properly all factored into the equation. I saw my friends following the same path, and I was sure that I was moving in the right direction. At that time, I was sure that fame and fortune wasn't far away.
Luckily, my daughter was born and I woke up. I was so sure that I needed to be a "Big Name" in order to be happy, that I didn't even realize that I was living out my father's dream. A change of job and priorities left me with a smaller income, little chance of being "Important" with a capital "I", and a chance to be there to see my children grow ( a son came along four years later). Over the years, I have watched many of my friends continue to move up the ladder; acquiring houses, cars, and other toys along the way.
This situation would not be so poignant if my daughter hadn't reached her eighteenth birthday recently. I've always told her that my job as a parent was to help her to avoid deep scars until she was old enough to be charged as an adult. Well, she is now eligible to have her face on the Post Office wall. I've been able to be there to watch her grow, to cheer her victories and bandage her wounds (yeah, maybe the one on her knee really did need stitches). Although my opinion might be a bit biased, I think that she has become one of the most incredible people that I have ever known. Suddenly, I understand where the capital "I" comes from. Thanks dad.