The Lessons I Learned from My Dad
I am not the man my father is.
I am trying. Some days closer. Some days farther.
He never sat me down and explained these lessons. He lived them. I’m still learning them.
Show up.
The kitchen table. The hospital room. The funeral. The picket line. The call from the son who won’t answer.
Show up.
Most days that’s the whole job.
My whole life I watched him do it. Not for cameras. Not for headlines. Not because there was something in it for him. He showed up because someone needed him.
I learned that grief doesn’t make you special.
My father buried a wife and daughter. He buried a son. Yet he never treated grief as a claim on other people’s sympathy. Instead, it made him notice theirs.
A mother who lost a child. A father sitting beside a hospital bed. A kid scared about what comes next. A son who lost his mother, his sister, his brother.
He always noticed.
I learned that power is not the point.
The people who chase power eventually confuse the office with themselves.
My father never did.
Whether he was a county councilman, a senator, vice president, or president, he was the same man.
The title changed.
He didn’t.
I learned that family comes first.
The train from Wilmington wasn’t symbolism.
It was every night.
He read to us. Showed up to games. Sat through hospital rooms. Waited up for children who were lost.
And when the day came that the country and the family could not both have him at full strength, he chose family. He relinquished the last chapter of how he wanted to be remembered. And he never complained about it.
Most of all, I learned that love is not soft.
Love is discipline.
Love is showing up at one in the morning when nobody is watching.
Love is answering the phone.
Love is staying.
Love is getting back up after life knocks you down and doing it all again tomorrow.
That love saved my life.
I’ve failed at many of these lessons, sometimes in very public ways.
He loved me anyway.
That’s the last lesson.
I am not trying to become my father.
I am trying to carry what he gave me.
And if I can do that, even imperfectly, that will be enough.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I love you.
Different salaries should ONLY affect how luxurious your life is and NOT your food quality or ability to afford rent. If you work 40 hours at any job, your income SHOULD be enough to live in the town you work in.
Thinking otherwise is an abysmal indicator of your humanity.
"Blame the password sharers" yes blame the common man!! Fight one another!!! Be at odds with your fellow human while the big bosses and ceo's pocket all the cash!!!
One of the greatest joys in life, is being your father. Thank you for the countless memories. Love you son! Happy Father’s Day to the rest of the dads out there!
DO NOT STOP TALKING ABOUT THE EPSTEIN FILES.
Does anyone else notice that no matter how many folks are posting about the Epstein files, it never trends on X?
Joe wears his heart in his sleeve. That’s a strength, not a weakness.
He feels the emotions of others so strongly that he takes them on as his own.
Honor. Service. Respect. Faith. Family.
Dear younger voters who went for Trump in ‘24, watch the speeches of Prez & Michelle Obama & Mamdani today then compare it to Trump speaking at the White House this afternoon. Ask yourself what kinda world you wanna live in & what real leadership looks like. Then get involved.