Six years after his death, my father still inspires me.   There are things about my life today that he simply would not recognize.  My success as a lawyer would not surprise him, but he would be amazed at how I got here.  He would revel in my high-profile clients and trial war stories. He knew three of my children well but would not recognize the special, gifted, beautiful people they have become.  He never met his namesake, David Robert Weisbrot, but would easily pick him out of a crowd of four year olds.  If for no other reason than little Davey’s remarkable similarity to me at that age (or this age, for that matter).  He would appreciate the trials and tribulations  that my work, marriage, and parenthood face every day – – mostly self-inflicted – – and the strength I draw from the small victories achieved in overcoming the challenges that naturally result from dedicating 100% of my life to work.  And another 100% to my wife.  And 100% to each child.

I didn’t talk to him about any of these things when he was alive.  Partially because they hadn’t yet reached full-term.  Partially because I figured I would do it tomorrow.  But, mostly because it never occurred to me that he lived a similar life.  A better life, to be sure, but he lived through much of what I encounter every day.

But, I spoke to him last week.  For a good hour.   Reaching deep into his playbook, I piled my wife and all four children into a minivan, and drove just past Mount Rushmore, South Dakota, into Wyoming.  13 states in 9 days.  4025 miles round trip (although, like my father, 500 of those miles were accidental).   He would have been proud.  This was his thing.  He would not have sanctioned the 2 DVD players, 4 cell phones, 4 laptops, 3 I-Pods, and 4 video-games  (or the 2 power cords that go with each device).  But, he knew something that few of my friends know.  And few real men will admit (according to Esquire Magazine).  There is nothing more special in the world than driving down a narrow highway that never ends, farmlands in every direction as far as the eye can see, and then ten times farther, where the buffalo roam, no cars, buildings, people, or hurricanes visible to the naked eye, the sun exploding in a fireball as it sets on the prairie, and the five people that matter most in the world fast asleep in an indistinguishable pile scattered throughout the Toyota.  There is nothing to do but drive.  And talk to your father.

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