I was exploring near Washington Park the other day and the area brought to mind a scary moment that occurred when I lived near there as a child.
There had been an ice storm, and I was walking with my father where Southwest Fairview Boulevard meets Kingston Avenue. Another family was also out for a walk with their black Lab running freely in front of them, as was then common.
The unleashed dog hit a patch of ice in the street, lost its footing and slammed into the opposite curb. I remember my father shouting at the other family to stay back. My dad, a doctor, determined the dog had died instantly from a broken neck.
I was shaken by the entire incident but also because he had shouted at the other family. He explained to me that even a trusted pet might snarl or bite when in pain.
“Be very careful about ever approaching a wounded animal,” he cautioned.
As Father’s Day neared, I thought a bit about lasting lessons my dad left me and my two siblings before he died when we were teenagers. I suppose everyone has these often-repeated sayings from childhood. (“Never eat at a restaurant with a ‘Cook Wanted’ sign in the window!”)
One from my father stands out: Actions have consequences.
Dad always stressed that the choices we make have consequences and if we made the choices, we’d need to live with (suffer!) the consequences.
This is certainly true in the work we do at The Oregonian/OregonLive. Some people think news organizations get a free pass on reporting without consequence since journalists are not licensed or regulated like other professions.
But we are held to account: by sources and readers, who can challenge our reporting; by subscribers, who could withhold their support; by the broader community, if we do not take care to protect our integrity.
And, last but not least, we can be held to account in the courts. News organizations that publish false and harmful information can be sued for defamation.
We publish corrections when we get things wrong because we think acknowledging an error adds to our credibility rather than detracts from it. We also try to be responsive to reader questions. Transparency builds trust, in my view, so we want to be as transparent as possible in our decision-making.
Another Dad rule: Stay on the trail.
Often weekends would find our family of five up in the gorge hiking. It was so tempting to cut off the trail at the switchbacks and save a few steps. This was a major no-no in my family. We’d quickly get a lecture about sticking to the trail to avoid trampling plants or causing erosion.
My dad spent much of his childhood outdoors and remembered his own father identifying all the trees and bushes as they hiked. If we even tried to leave an orange peel behind in the woods, we’d hear, “Do you know how long that takes to biodegrade?”
I never did get the definitive answer on that — but I got the point.
We spent time each summer in Glacier National Park, in Montana, the state where my father grew up.
“One time, a lady picked a flower and showed it to the ranger,” he told us on a visit to Logan Pass, at the top of the park’s famed Going-to-the-Sun Road. “She said, ‘Ranger, what type of flower is this?’
“‘Why, ma’am,’ the ranger replied, taking out his citation book, ‘that there is what we call a $50 flower.’”
I’m not sure these lessons apply to my current role but it’s a fair assessment to say I tend to be a rule follower.
Here’s another Dad saying: Your feelings are neither right or wrong; they just are.
I try to remember this when I am talking to aggrieved readers. We may disagree on things, but I hope we can have a civil conversation. Increasingly, however, in this polarized political world, I find it troubling that we can’t agree on the basic facts. Without a shared framework, it seems to me much harder to find a way forward.
My dad was a psychiatrist, and he had a collection of little riddles or jokes that I imagine he used in his work, such as this one:
One man asked for directions and the other man said, well, you go down here and turn at the first light. No, wait, go south and then after a mile go left. No, that’s not it … Hmmm. You know what? You can’t get there from here!
On this Father’s Day, I hope you all can spend some time with your loved ones: fathers, stepdads, anyone in your life who has taught you enduring life lessons along the way. I’d love to hear some of the ones you remember and try to live by.
