My dad, William Sturgeon Gillis, Jr., was 51 when I was born. Can you imagine? He had just put his first daughter through college, and along comes a baby. It wasn’t until I was in my 50s that I truly appreciated what he was dealing with.
Dad’s Parenting
My mom was his new wife; he had been married before. So, I was my mom’s first child. My dad already had the experience of raising a kid.
He was the hands-on parent, the one who would play games with me or hang out with me outdoors. He was the hugger. And the one who would answer my incessant questions about the world around me.
My parents were clear in their roles. If anything had to do with my schedule, he would send me to my mom. If I wanted to know what kind of insect I was looking at, she would send me to my dad.
Avionics Engineer at Eastern Airlines
My dad was an avionics engineer for Eastern Airlines. Without a college degree, he worked his way up from janitor to management.
As a child, one of my proudest moments was when he was invited to Paris to work on the new A-300. I thought that was the coolest thing in the world. He brought me a Parisian doll in a beautiful outfit, and I displayed her proudly, but my real pride was in my dad. Even at 11 years old, I knew what an important achievement that was.
Science, Orchids, and Amateur Radio
My dad was very scientific. For a long time, I was into science and was very inquisitive. I especially loved geology and astronomy. He helped me with my chemistry set, microscope, and binoculars. He was very encouraging when I would talk to him about my science projects. My mom wasn’t into all that, so she let us bond over science.
My dad raised orchids and even experimented with hybrids. He bought me an orchid every year for my birthday. To this day, I raise orchids. I advise friends on how to help their orchids. I no longer live in a subtropical environment. But I have learned how to recreate a subtropical atmosphere for indoor orchids. I enjoy carrying on the tradition my dad started.
My dad was also very active in amateur “ham” radio. Every Saturday during my teen years, he’d be on the radio, chatting with ham operators all over the world. He had a network of ham friends he chatted with regularly. This was in the days before Internet, so amateur radio was a useful form of worldwide communication. His call sign, W4BSP, was his car license plate number.
My dad used to take me with him to local and regional amateur radio gatherings. I thought it was cool seeing all the electronics. As a language geek, I was especially into learning Morse code. Sometimes the ham operators used Morse code to communicate, and sometimes they just talked.
His amateur radio equipment was set up in the den next to my bedroom. I learned it wasn’t a good idea to play records on my stereo while he was chatting. The voices from the radio chat came through my stereo speakers!
In later years, I took an amateur radio class with a local teacher to learn more about that world my dad loved. That adventure didn’t go beyond the classroom, though. I was renting an apartment, which wouldn’t have allowed me to put up the necessary equipment to operate an amateur radio. But the learning process was fun.
Music and Saturday Breakfast
My mom and dad had a good balance in their relationship. She had a good sense of humor, but she was quiet and reserved. He had a bubbly sense of humor, could bring joy into the room, and he drew that out of her. Her name was Joy, so amazingly enough, he helped Joy find her joy.
Both my parents loved music. We always had music playing on the hi-fi stereo in our home—especially music from the 1930s and 1940s. I learned to play the bongo drums and harmonica from my dad. He had a baritone voice and often sang solos in the church choir. I would play the piano part to help him rehearse at home.
Every Saturday morning, my dad took my mom out for breakfast. They also had their date night once a week at a steakhouse. He would tell his younger male colleagues, when they were about to get married, that one key to a successful marriage was to take your wife out for breakfast every Saturday morning.
After my dad passed away when I was 15, my mom and I carried on the breakfast tradition every Saturday at The Village Inn. I continue it myself to this day, usually going to Chick Fil-A on Saturday mornings.
What’s Your Hurry?
As I hit my early teen years and wanted to be a grownup, my dad would say, “What’s your hurry?” While his comment frustrated me at the time, I wholly agree with him now. Adulthood is overrated.
Whenever I work with teens, I tell them to enjoy where they are right now. Make the most of each moment. Teens have told me they appreciate that. It takes all the pressure off and gives them permission to keep being who they are, rather than jumping onto a conveyor belt, speeding into adulthood. I am thankful for my dad’s instilling that wisdom in me, whether I wanted to hear it at the time or not. I am so grateful now for his wisdom.
Exploring Generations 