Lessons from my father

Today is my first Father's Day as a dad - and my first Father's Day without my dad, who passed away nearly a year ago.

As I reflect on my first nine months as Niranjana's daddy, I have often wished I could have called Dad up to ask for advice. Yet he left me with memories and lessons to follow. Here are a few I'm thinking of today:

Take it easy: Anyone who knew - or even met - Ed Perdue must have been struck by his laid-back and patient attitude. He didn't let much faze him, regardless of a situation. Whether he was hitting a great golf shot or frustrated with traffic, his demeanor changed little. No matter what kind of trouble my brother or I would seem to get into, he never got too angry with us.

Have fun: My dad wasn't much of a practical joker, but he had a great sense of humor and comedic timing. His funny side - like everything else - was low key, but you could always see a gleam in his eye. The week before he died, the entire family gathered to spend time together and say goodbye. A couple of his golfing buddies stopped by, and they all sat around telling stories about various escapades. Dad kept that quiet sense of humor right to the end.

Be a role model: After family, my dad's two great loves were golf and newspapering. My brother, Joe, is a professional golfer, and I'm a newspaperman. He never pushed us into anything, though he gently guided us toward what we wanted to do in life. He played hundreds of rounds of golf with Joe, and he closely followed my career in newspapers, offering advice and anecdotes to each of us when asked.

Do what you love: Dad first picked up a golf club when he was a boy growing up in Shelton. In high school, he played on the golf team with future PGA Tour pro Rod Funseth, who won three tournaments on the regular tour and two on the Senior Tour. I can't remember a time my dad didn't love to golf. He played 100 to 300 rounds per year. He wanted to go to Scotland and play golf where the sport was born, and he ended up going to Europe at least six times to play in Scotland, England, Wales, Ireland, Northern Ireland and Portugal. He had the greatest time on those trips and could seemingly recall every shot on every hole even years later. Dad, Joe and I played a pro-am four years ago at Pebble Beach, Spyglass Hill and the Links at Spanish Bay in California. He didn't play well, but he had such a great time with his boys that it didn't matter.

Don't let anything get in your way: Dad was diagnosed with Parkinson's in 1993, and he had the symptoms for probably a year before that. The only thing that seemed to make him mad about the disease was that his golf handicap went from a six to a 14. Once he got onto his meds, his handicap went back down to a six or eight. That tickled him to no end because it meant he was taking money off his golfing buddies. When he found out he had Parkinson's, he figured he'd have six or eight years left. It took a lot longer for it to cause great problems, and the golfing pace actually increased, especially after he retired from the newspaper. He handled that disease with quiet grace. I cannot recall him complaining about any of his health issues, even a year ago.

Don't quit - unless you have a great reason: Dad was no quitter, and he didn't raise quitters. My sophomore year in high school, I played football. I didn't get in the game much, and I didn't really care for it. About halfway through the season, I was ready to turn in my pads. Dad said I needed to finish what I started and see what I could learn from the situation. I stuck out the season and was glad I did. I still didn't get much game time, but I enjoyed the camaraderie of my teammates and was happy I stuck with it. A few years later, in 1986, I was a reporting intern for a group of weeklies in central and north Kitsap County. The woman who ran the papers was notorious for not paying her employees on a regular basis. After six weeks, I was frustrated with a lot of things and turned to Dad for advice. Surprisingly, he said he couldn't believe I'd lasted six weeks working there. He advised me to quit, then he gave me a job at the paper he was working for so I could finish out my internship.

Love your job, but love your family more: Dad was a great writer. He could have had a terrific newspaper career, yet he "settled" for papers that were less than illustrious. I think he saw how his father - also a newspaperman - worked so hard that he often ignored his family, and he ultimately died on the job. Dad put family first, and if that meant working for smaller newspapers, so be it. He loved community journalism and even though he never earned a lot of money, he treated every story as though he worked for The New York Times. I have such wonderful memories of my dad being my baseball and basketball coach. I love the fact that we played so many rounds of golf together. I think Melissa was concerned that my hard-driving attitude at work would get in the way of me being an effective dad. I still spend too much time in front of this computer, but I am not at the office nearly as many hours as I used to be. I will do anything at any time for my little girl, and I learned that from Dad.

I miss my dad terribly. I wish he could have been around to meet his granddaughter. Yet with every tear comes a smile and a fond memory.