I’M SORRY DAD, BUT I DON’T WANT TO BE A WELDER (Part 3 of 3)

I was a very sickly, asthmatic child and Dad pushed me to my limits and beyond by taking me on twenty mile bike rides, long walks, and hikes through the woods when I was no more than nine or ten years old.

Me in the middle rockin’ the wicked 1970’s tube socks.

As a result of this I became phsyically fit and progressed to the point where I rarely needed to use my asthma inhaler. Still today I have a love of bike rides and physical activity. Looking back now I see that our childhood was a second chance for my Pops to enjoy all the fun he missed out on when he was younger. He certainly made up for a lot of lost time with us. I didn’t see it then but understand now that it was also a kind of redemption.

When my brother and I were growing up dad was the first to rush towards anything that had a hint of danger and fun. Naturally, my brother and I eagerly followed his example.

Ours was the antithesis of today's, "everybody wears helmets, knee pads, and wins an award" kind of childhood. It was more like a, “try your best to win, you’ll probably get bruises and skinned knees, and if you don’t stop crying I’ll give you something to cry about.” kind of experience.

My father was very strict when he had to be. He wasn’t the kind of dad that taught me how to get into an Ivy League University or the best mutual funds to pick for my 401k. However, his words, more often his actions, taught me everything in life that matters. He taught me to work extremely hard, to jump into challenges with both feet, and to never be afraid to take chances. Dad raised me to always do my best and more importantly to never give up. He also taught us how to be creative, frugal, and how to hustle and survive without a safety net because he sure as hell never had one.

My father’s lessons of dedication, strength, and determination have served my brother and I well in life. As I look back throughout my twenty plus years of struggling as an author, the fire that kept me going when every single door was slammed in my face was largely stoked by my dad’s lessons. A writing career at first is a damned difficult existence. There are so many times that you pour your heart and soul into something and it just doesn’t work out: book signings where only a handful of people show up, books that you’ve spent six months on and only sell a few copies, a seemingly endless succession of rejection slips. Most people on a creative path whether they be artists, actors, or dancers can identify with this. What I’ve discovered is you have to prove to the universe that you want it more than anything else.

A few times in the last two decades I’ve even cursed my choice to follow this path, feeling as though my peers, my friends, the world has left me lingering behind. Now those days of doubt are in the past and I’m so very grateful I never gave up because now my dream is finally coming true. It was my father’s example that gave the fortitude that allowed me to get up time and time again after being knocked, breathless, flat on my back. The amazing thing about being a writer is every project is a roll of the dice that has the potential to change your destiny. The universe has shown me eventually things do work out, often when you least expect them to.

I often think if fate were just a little different and I would’ve had a different kind of father I would’ve given up long ago, way too early. If I would've given up I would now be living the worst kind of existence I can imagine, the kind of life so many people suffer through needlessly. I would be living a life of regret in which in the back of my mind I would have always wondered...What If?

Fellow creatives, never EVER give up on the dream you hold in your heart because if you keep learning and keep working eventually wishes do come true. I can tell you, when you have your first taste of success it won’t even feel real but after a while you do begin to believe in it. Shortly after you begin believing in it you feel such an immense flood of gratitude. Then you glance back over your shoulder and realize it was always about the journey…Do yourself a favor and remember to relish each and every step.

My dad and I.
~eric vance walton~

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Did you miss Parts 1 and 2 of this story? If so please click this link to read them:

Part 1 - https://steemit.com/story/@ericvancewalton/i-m-sorry-dad-but-i-don-t-want-to-be-a-welder-part-1-of-3

Part 2 - https://steemit.com/story/@ericvancewalton/i-m-sorry-dad-but-i-don-t-want-to-be-a-welder-part-2-of-3

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