Reflections on my relationship with Doug Graham, my true father and hero.
by Lane Chevrier
I met Doug when I was 14. It was my third foster home in as many years, and I was a misguided, troubled kid with a lot of anger and hurt. I was certain that in a year I would have to move on somewhere else. I had no idea I would stay there until I was 18, and even less did I realize that Doug would become the father I never had. This is not to say that I was estranged from my real dad, but over the years, Doug’s stubborn dedication and love for an irascible brat revealed to me what was possible from a parent. Doug never gave up on me, although I gave him plenty of reasons to.
I’ve heard plenty of horror stories about awful foster homes, but I must have been one of the few lucky ones. If not for Doug, I would have continued to slip through the cracks, and I wouldn’t be the man I am today. I believe Doug literally saved my life.
Doug and I would have long talks about philosophy, theology, and the human experience. He taught me the value of logical argument, and personal credibility. He held me accountable to my word, and he instilled in me a sense of honesty and responsibility. He also loved to play Devil’s Advocate, but not in an arrogant way—he’d listen with genuine interest to what I had to say, and acknowledge it, but he would also search for errors in my thinking (of which there were many) or contradicting points, and present them in a way that suggested not that he was right, but that there were simply greater complexities to the black and white positions I loved to take.
Anyone who knows Doug knows of his dry humour, and we would often engage in Pun wars, where we’d alternate finding puns on a particular theme, which would inevitably trail off in some obscurely related direction, and a dozen puns later I’d usually have to concede that I had run dry. In my mind I can still see him laughing, with that bright gleam in his eye.
Doug was always a joyful, optimistic man who spoke less of problems and more of solutions. He was my litmus test for what a normal, functional human being should be. Considering how I never much considered myself one of those, I would say that Doug was my greatest role model. I always tried to become more like he was. Even as an adult, I would call him up to talk, and he always helped me to see things from a different perspective. As a variation of “WWJD?”, when I come up with a life situation I don’t know how to handle, I think, “WWDD? What would Doug do?”
Doug is my greatest inspiration. If it were not for him I’d be a cocky, un-self-aware, irresponsible jackass. When I was 15, I thought I despised him: he stood in front of everything I wanted… because everything I wanted was foolish and selfish. I constantly railed against him, but he never gave up. He kept up on the hard-ass discipline, because he saw potential in me. I didn’t fully respect or appreciate him until after I moved out. At that point I saw who I had become, and why.
One of my best interactions with Doug was after a Father’s Day lunch, when I was 19. As he was dropping me off, I turned to him and I told him that it was funny, they always said I’d look back at my parents and appreciate them later in life, and I never believed it until then. I can honestly say he’s my hero. I told him I was sorry for being such a dick to him, and that if not for his persistence, I’d still be that way.
When I was sixteen, I was given a punishment wherein I had to help Doug build a carport and a farm-garden. My anger and bitterness ruined the whole experience. I can’t help but think if I had just pulled my head out of my ass how great a time that could have been. Thinking back on it, I’m pretty sure he always did the right thing, as a parent. “You’re who I think of on Father’s Day,” I said. “Thank you so much. I love you.”
Doug smiled and hugged me. Looking a little embarrassed, he explained to me that, as a parent, he never was really sure if he was doing the right thing, or if he even did a good job at all, and hearing this from me really meant a lot to him.
Even though we spoke less often in his final years, I am so happy that we never left anything unsaid, and there was absolutely no resentment. Even on the day before his surgery, I was able to tell him I love him. I never imagined they would be my last words to him, but I’m forever grateful I was able to share that moment with him. Doug was, and continues to be, the greatest influence in my life.
I love you, Doug.
Your son,
Lane