Yesterday, and a Lifetime Ago

2000 was twenty-five years ago…and sometimes it seems like yesterday. It also seems like it was a lifetime ago.

The world didn’t shut down when Y2K arrived.

Tiger Woods was just 24 years old but had one of the greatest years in golf history, winning three of the four Majors. Richard Hatch won one million dollars on the first season of CBS’s new reality show, Survivor. Gladiator, Cast Away, and Almost Famous were big hits in theatres. Songs like “Higher” by Creed, “Bye, Bye, Bye” by NSYNC, and “Meet Virginia” by Train were big hits on the radio, a year before you could listen on Sirius Satellite Radio and six years before Spotify would be invented.

The term “hanging chad” would become well known during the closely contested election between George W Bush and Al Gore. The St. Louis Rams won the Super Bowl, a young actor named George Clooney played a doctor on ER, and a first-class stamp was just 34 cents.

2000 was twenty-five years ago…and sometimes it seems like yesterday. It also seems like it was a lifetime ago.

Twenty-five years ago, on February 17, I said goodbye to my father.

I can still remember sitting by his hospital bed with my Mom and younger brother, Kevin, when the machines just stopped beeping. He was just 61 years old, four years older than I am today. It seemed way too soon back then. It still seems that way today.

He was a great father. He was a loving husband. He was a brother and uncle. He was a great teacher who always wanted the best for his students. He was a proud member of the American Society of Landscape Architects (ASLA), serving as the organization’s President in 1979. A professor of Landscape Architecture at The Ohio State University’s Knowlton School of Architecture, Dad taught for 29 years—right up until the day he died.

The tears were plentiful over the days that followed Dad’s death. We wished we had answers. Why the aneurysm happened? Whether it could have been prevented? The sense of something missing is hard to describe but anyone who has lost a parent can probably remember that feeling.

Soon the tears were replaced by happy memories, fun stories, and invisible nuggets of wisdom that were suddenly inside me as a husband, father, teacher, and friend. Dad may have stopped teaching on the day he died but his lessons live on.

I honor him every time I stand in front of an audience or classroom of students. I seek to teach with passion and enthusiasm, instilling confidence and excitement in my students. I know that’s what he did so it just seems right to carry on the tradition.

I miss my Dad, and I know everyone who knew him does too. I know he gets to watch down over my Mom, his wife, and be so proud of how strong she has been since he left us. He shines his love down on her every time she looks up and sees the moon in the night sky. I like to think he’s proud of his three boys and the men we’ve become. He loved all of our amazing wives. I wish he could see his grandchildren grow into the amazing young adults they are becoming.

Do me a favor – if your parents are still alive, call them up and tell them you love them. I know it’ll mean a lot to them. Before you know it, you won’t be able to anymore.

It was twenty-five years ago…and sometimes it seems like yesterday. It also seems like it was a lifetime ago.

I love you, Dad, and still miss you. I hope I’m making you proud.