Friday, May 11, 2012
"Padre", "Pad", "Padrewski", "Drewski", "Drusophilus", "Drusoph" … these were all names that my Dad would lovingly answer to as we morphed his nickname over time. I must say that he was an awesome Dad to have around.
Heck, when I was a kid, he was in even better shape than I was!! He would drop me off at baseball practice and park the car… then he'd proceed to run wind sprints up and down the road in front of the baseball field for the entire 1 ½ hour practice!!
I'll always remember when Dad taught me to pitch. Wow… those were some fireworks!! I would come home screaming that he was making fun of me and that he just kept laughing at me when I couldn't throw a strike every time. Dad would come in, still laughing, and his laugh was infectious. He'd have Mom cracking up at the two of us being so rowdy before she composed herself and tried to console me a little. (Mom says that she and Dad couldn't help laughing at me because my temper was so bad, I was like a miniature Yosemite Sam when I got mad. :-)
While I was on the mound and he was catching, Dad would say stuff to me like, "Throw a strike. That's no strike!!" To which I would reply, "I'm trying my best!" And of course, his inevitable response would be, "I don't care if you try!! A strike is a strike!!"
Like I say, eventually this would devolve into me getting mad that he just kept giving me a hard time whenever I didn't throw a strike. Even if I threw 10 strikes in a row, he would still give me grief if I threw a ball on the 11th pitch. But I must admit, under Dad's tutelage, I was the most accurate pitcher in the league by far for a couple of years because he taught me to strive to be even better than I thought was possible.
Many of you may not know this, but Drusoph was actually on the verge of becoming a pro bowler when he got cancer back in 1983. He had his average up to between 180 and 220, consistently and across multiple types of lanes (He bowled in leagues at different bowling alleys in Charleston who all oiled their lanes differently.), and he had been doing well in the regional semi-pro tournaments he entered. Who knows… maybe we could have been watching him on TV before long if things had gone a little differently… I'd like to think so, anyway!!
Needless to say, my Dad was an awesome man to learn from. His many physics students scattered around Charleston and beyond can certainly attest to this. I can't tell you how many times we would be out about town only to have one of his ex-students greet us out of the blue and thank him for helping them to learn physics and to better their lives in the process.
Padre certainly taught me many things, but most of all, he taught me to be kind, tolerant, and caring toward everyone. Sure, he also demanded that I work hard and do my best, even when it made me mad, but I always knew that he had my best interests at heart. Dad taught me to be thoughtful, inquisitive, and to live by the golden rule, and it's these treasures that I will always keep close in my heart as they help me to live a fulfilling life and to be a good person.
Thanks Padre…
