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ALLAN AMERINGER
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| Whereas you may have heard about my great grandfather
(see Oscar Ameringer),
I'm pretty sure you've never heard of my father, Allan Ameringer. That
is, not unless you're one of the lucky few who got to know him. |
| Dad wasn't a famous man. He was well enough known in
the small circle of his chosen profession as an excellent tool designer,
but as the profession itself means little to most people, touting his accolades
will mean little as well. Besides, I never saw Dad's accomplishments as
what made him great; what made him a great man was more intangible than
that. |
| When I was little, Dad was like a giant redwood tree.
He stood over 6 feet tall and towered over everyone in the family. I remember
running up and hugging him when I was very small; my head only came up
to his knee. He'd laugh every time and reach down to swing me up in his
arms. Nothing bad could ever happen when Dad was around; at least, nothing
that he couldn't fix. Car problems? Dad could probably fix it. Want to
remodel a room in the house? Dad would design and do it (in fact, he and
Mom built the house we grew up in). Someone making trouble? Dad would go
talk to them and straighten them out. |
| Like most children, I went through a time when I pulled
away from my family; some of the pedestals I put my parents on were overthown
during this period. Dad had his flaws, probably many of them. But I was
lucky enough to rediscover my father as an adult. The man I got to know
before his death was remarkable. |
| He had never been a very social individual and often
felt awkward around people if he wasn't with someone he knew. Mom had been
that someone for most of his life (they met in school; Dad never had another
girlfriend), and after Mom's death Dad socialised less and less. But it
was the people he chose to spend time with during his later life that I
find fascinating. He told me that he felt real empathy for his friends;
he usually picked people who were to some extent or another outside social
circles. He worked to look past what other people thought of as their flaws
and find what was remarkable in each and every one of them. And he accomplished
it. For the small group of people my Dad spent time with before his death,
let me tell you he never spoke badly about any of you, only fondly. He
truly loved each of you and cherished the time he spent with you. |
| I think this was what really stunned me about my father;
his reach to move beyond petty annoyances and be more positive (something
he struggled with for a long time). Dad had always carried sadness around
with him. He'd also been very focused on material gains. But as he grew
older he began to talk more and more about being happy. He became less
impressed with material things (he still liked them, don't get me wrong).
But I remember him being more concerned about whether I was happy than
how much money I was making. He learned to control his temper. He learned
to laugh more. He moved beyond what he had been when I was a child; I was
witness to an adult changing and growing. |
| And let's not forget Dad's coolness factor. His age was
often guessed 10 years or younger than he actually was even though he suffered
from diabetes and heart disease. He rode motorcycles all of his life, owned
a big Harley-Davidson, and took part (in his 60's) in the 100th Anniversary
Parade of Harley-Davidson. He spent weekends in winter going snowmobiling
with me at a time when my friends' fathers were only playing golf. He got
into some songs from New Order. He loved sailing and won many races. He
once set up a telescope late at night and showed me Saturn with several
of its moons. He did some brilliant paintings when he was younger. He loved
fast cars and owned a 1965 Corvette. When he first let me drive it (with
him in the car) he encouraged me to rev it up to over 130 mph - and told
me I could outrun the police if we were nabbed for speeding. |
| Dad was an anchor of support. He was a shoulder to lean
on. He was a source of wisdom and experience. And, in the end, he was my
friend. |
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Check
Out the Art of Allan Ameringer
Return to Season
One
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