Dad
On July 4, just as Dylan and I were walking out the door to meet my brother and his wife Angela at a pool party at our friend Jennn's apartment, my phone rang. It was my sister, Adrienne, and I answered with glee - hearing from my little sister is always special and since it was a holiday, I was very excited to hear what her and her husband and kids were doing. But the second I heard her voice, I could tell that something was wrong. She immediately told me that mom had just called her, that she said she thought dad had just had a stroke, and he was in an ambulance on the way to the hospital. The sense of dread that invaded every fiber of my being hit me like a semi truck. Adrienne asked if I was going to see Brandon, and I said I was on my way to see him now, so she asked that I relay the message to him. He wasn't answering his phone for either of us so I decided to go and tell him in person. As we left our building, I told Dylan, "I don't think I can handle this if anything happened to my dad." He told me that I could, but I didn't believe him.
I heard from Brandon a few minutes later and let him know what was going on. Within minutes, Brandon and Angela had already made a plan to get him back to Kansas on the next possible flight. Brandon is a much faster thinker and doer than I am, and I just felt like I was in shock, unsure of what was even real. So many thoughts were going through my head, all alternating between hyperreal and seemingly impossible. My dad had just been in LA a couple weeks ago with my mom, helping me celebrate my birthday, getting to see me perform in Boynanarama, and spending quality time with all of us LA Streckers.
I was able to fly out the next day around noon, and despite all the (bad) things I had heard about Spirit Airlines, my experience was actually overwhelmingly positive. I landed in KC and my sister and brother picked me up, Adrienne greeting me by saying "welcome to the most depressing family reunion ever."
After the three of us went out to dinner for probably the first time the three of us had ever gone out to dinner without anyone else, we met my mom at the hospital. I knew seeing mom was going to break my heart but she is a strong person and I knew that us all being together was the only thing that was going to help any of us deal with this situation.
Four days full of crying, worrying, bad new and good news later, not much has changed. My sister has done an unbelievable job of documenting and explaining everything that has been happening with my dad while he recovers in ICU over at https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/glenstrecker so I won't duplicate her efforts. What I want to talk about is my father, what a wonderful man he has been, and what a humongous debt I owe him for all that he has done to make me who I am.
While I am very different from my dad in many ways, in the ways that matter, I am very much like him. My dad, by example, has taught me to be equal parts tough and sensitive. To my dad, no challenge is unsurmountable. Since the time I was a kid, I always saw that if there was a problem, my dad would find a solution to it - often a very creative, out-of-the-box, solution! Almost to the point of being stubborn (which some would say I have definitely inherited) he never took no for an answer. There was always a way to get it done, and usually that meant doing it himself without anyone else interfering, I mean, helping.
My dad also taught me how to treat other people with respect. In high school, he was a guidance counselor, and I am pretty firm in the belief that I am the only child of a high school guidance counselor who was actually considered "cooler" because of my father. All the students loved Mr. Strecker because he was able to relate to them, help and motivate them, all while treating them like people rather than "stupid kids" or just another name and number. He made people laugh, helped people consider their future in a town where most people didn't think much about their futures. But most of all he made them feel like they could be somebody. And he always made me feel like I was going to be somebody, but he never tried to tell me who that person would be. He never wanted to force me to be like him, or to do what he thought I should do. He encouraged me to find my own path, even if he was not always sure I was on the right one. He was always there to support me, no matter what I was pursuing.
Of course, because of this, we often fought. I always thought I knew best and there were times where I didn't think my father understood me at all. There were times he tried to help me see that other people might not see things the way I saw them, and he tried to protect me when I would do things that he knew other kids in Kansas would make fun of me for, or try to make me feel bad about. But he never made me feel bad about myself. He was just trying to make me aware that not everyone was as open minded as I thought they should be.
More than anything he ever said, he showed me by example. He may have made mistakes, but he learned from them and showed me how to learn from my mistakes. He always loved my mom and respected her as an equal, in a time and place where many men still treated their wives like property at worst, or like hired hands at best. I always felt like both my parents were equal in their role in our family, and he would cook and clean to help my mom out when she had a busy day working.
One of my favorite memories of my dad was when I was in junior high and he was a substitute teacher at my school. Again, while most substitutes were considered the opposite of "cool," the students always loved my dad. He decided, really just to fuck with the other teachers and the school board, to get a magnetic earring. Some people in our community were completely appalled, thinking he had pierced his ear. He would just laugh at them, thinking how funny it was that a tiny little magnet on his ear could get people so worked up. In many ways, it was this moment that showed me not to be scared of being different or expressing myself differently, but to actually enjoy people's horror and judgment because at the end of the day, it was their problem - not his!
Another one of my favorite memories of my dad is when I was a kid and the 1988 winter olympics were going on. I became fascinated with figure skating. I'm sure most of my male friends' fathers would have been mortified if their sons had identified with the sequined-wearing, twirling figure skaters rather than any of the other more "butch" athletes competing in the games. But what did my dad do? He built me and my siblings a freaking ice skating rink out in our yard by digging a large, shallow hole in the ground, lining it with plastic and filling it with water right before the winter freeze. And then he bought us all ice skates.
As we have been enduring this terrible ordeal, so many other memories of my dad have been flooding back to me, but the all-encompassing impression I have of my dad is a man who would do anything for the people he loved, and always putting others before himself, with my mom being the most important of anyone. His corny jokes, his love for his dog Royal, and his grandchildren, exemplifying his overflowing heart with so much love.
One other thing to know about my dad, is that no matter where I go, I will inevitably run into someone wearing a K-State t-shirt, often emblazoned with the school's mascot, Willie the Wildcat, who my dad portrayed during his time in college. When my mom met my dad, he was wearing the Willie costume. Willie is such a beloved figure around Kansas, and I am automatically much cooler whenever I tell anyone that my dad was Willie the Wildcat. It is because of this that I never wanted to just be another person, I always wanted to be someone, because my dad sure as heck had been someone - someone who brought joy to people, who made them laugh, and who made them feel like they could win. That's how my dad has always made me feel. Now I just want to make him feel that way. I don't pray, and I'm not religious, but I have been asking every spirit, molecule, mother nature, and every force in the universe to help my dad get better so I can let him read this so he will know without a doubt what a hero he has always been to me.
I heard from Brandon a few minutes later and let him know what was going on. Within minutes, Brandon and Angela had already made a plan to get him back to Kansas on the next possible flight. Brandon is a much faster thinker and doer than I am, and I just felt like I was in shock, unsure of what was even real. So many thoughts were going through my head, all alternating between hyperreal and seemingly impossible. My dad had just been in LA a couple weeks ago with my mom, helping me celebrate my birthday, getting to see me perform in Boynanarama, and spending quality time with all of us LA Streckers.
I was able to fly out the next day around noon, and despite all the (bad) things I had heard about Spirit Airlines, my experience was actually overwhelmingly positive. I landed in KC and my sister and brother picked me up, Adrienne greeting me by saying "welcome to the most depressing family reunion ever."
After the three of us went out to dinner for probably the first time the three of us had ever gone out to dinner without anyone else, we met my mom at the hospital. I knew seeing mom was going to break my heart but she is a strong person and I knew that us all being together was the only thing that was going to help any of us deal with this situation.
Four days full of crying, worrying, bad new and good news later, not much has changed. My sister has done an unbelievable job of documenting and explaining everything that has been happening with my dad while he recovers in ICU over at https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/glenstrecker so I won't duplicate her efforts. What I want to talk about is my father, what a wonderful man he has been, and what a humongous debt I owe him for all that he has done to make me who I am.
While I am very different from my dad in many ways, in the ways that matter, I am very much like him. My dad, by example, has taught me to be equal parts tough and sensitive. To my dad, no challenge is unsurmountable. Since the time I was a kid, I always saw that if there was a problem, my dad would find a solution to it - often a very creative, out-of-the-box, solution! Almost to the point of being stubborn (which some would say I have definitely inherited) he never took no for an answer. There was always a way to get it done, and usually that meant doing it himself without anyone else interfering, I mean, helping.
My dad also taught me how to treat other people with respect. In high school, he was a guidance counselor, and I am pretty firm in the belief that I am the only child of a high school guidance counselor who was actually considered "cooler" because of my father. All the students loved Mr. Strecker because he was able to relate to them, help and motivate them, all while treating them like people rather than "stupid kids" or just another name and number. He made people laugh, helped people consider their future in a town where most people didn't think much about their futures. But most of all he made them feel like they could be somebody. And he always made me feel like I was going to be somebody, but he never tried to tell me who that person would be. He never wanted to force me to be like him, or to do what he thought I should do. He encouraged me to find my own path, even if he was not always sure I was on the right one. He was always there to support me, no matter what I was pursuing.
Of course, because of this, we often fought. I always thought I knew best and there were times where I didn't think my father understood me at all. There were times he tried to help me see that other people might not see things the way I saw them, and he tried to protect me when I would do things that he knew other kids in Kansas would make fun of me for, or try to make me feel bad about. But he never made me feel bad about myself. He was just trying to make me aware that not everyone was as open minded as I thought they should be.
More than anything he ever said, he showed me by example. He may have made mistakes, but he learned from them and showed me how to learn from my mistakes. He always loved my mom and respected her as an equal, in a time and place where many men still treated their wives like property at worst, or like hired hands at best. I always felt like both my parents were equal in their role in our family, and he would cook and clean to help my mom out when she had a busy day working.
One of my favorite memories of my dad was when I was in junior high and he was a substitute teacher at my school. Again, while most substitutes were considered the opposite of "cool," the students always loved my dad. He decided, really just to fuck with the other teachers and the school board, to get a magnetic earring. Some people in our community were completely appalled, thinking he had pierced his ear. He would just laugh at them, thinking how funny it was that a tiny little magnet on his ear could get people so worked up. In many ways, it was this moment that showed me not to be scared of being different or expressing myself differently, but to actually enjoy people's horror and judgment because at the end of the day, it was their problem - not his!
Another one of my favorite memories of my dad is when I was a kid and the 1988 winter olympics were going on. I became fascinated with figure skating. I'm sure most of my male friends' fathers would have been mortified if their sons had identified with the sequined-wearing, twirling figure skaters rather than any of the other more "butch" athletes competing in the games. But what did my dad do? He built me and my siblings a freaking ice skating rink out in our yard by digging a large, shallow hole in the ground, lining it with plastic and filling it with water right before the winter freeze. And then he bought us all ice skates.
As we have been enduring this terrible ordeal, so many other memories of my dad have been flooding back to me, but the all-encompassing impression I have of my dad is a man who would do anything for the people he loved, and always putting others before himself, with my mom being the most important of anyone. His corny jokes, his love for his dog Royal, and his grandchildren, exemplifying his overflowing heart with so much love.
One other thing to know about my dad, is that no matter where I go, I will inevitably run into someone wearing a K-State t-shirt, often emblazoned with the school's mascot, Willie the Wildcat, who my dad portrayed during his time in college. When my mom met my dad, he was wearing the Willie costume. Willie is such a beloved figure around Kansas, and I am automatically much cooler whenever I tell anyone that my dad was Willie the Wildcat. It is because of this that I never wanted to just be another person, I always wanted to be someone, because my dad sure as heck had been someone - someone who brought joy to people, who made them laugh, and who made them feel like they could win. That's how my dad has always made me feel. Now I just want to make him feel that way. I don't pray, and I'm not religious, but I have been asking every spirit, molecule, mother nature, and every force in the universe to help my dad get better so I can let him read this so he will know without a doubt what a hero he has always been to me.
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