Greg Harris: My Father Who Made Me Feel Like a Winner

I idolized my father growing up.  I used to take friends up to his study to show them pictures from his old almanacs of his playing days in high school and college sports and brag about his athleticism.  I bragged about him a lot as a kid, and still try to emulate him as an adult.

My dad took his profession very seriously, and it was really mom who played the more “hands-on” role growing up.  Dad’s paternal example, my grandfather, was a tough Texas railroad man who was often on the road.  In that generation, parents didn’t exactly “play” with their kids.  My dad carried that tradition (albeit to a lesser extent). Indeed, I remember many days he’d come home from work for dinner, only to return to work after dinner. 

But this was hardly a Harry Chapinesque “Cats in the Cradle” scenario—indeed, I always felt my dad was there for me and enjoyed me as a son.  As busy as he was, I also never took for granted our bonding times—going to the local college’s basketball games (for which we had season tickets), the occasional Cubs game, the 20 hour drives to Texas to visit our kin, and the boxing.  He taught me “the science of boxing,” and in my pre-teens we’d have periodic boxing matches in our family room when he’d don the gloves he brought me, sit at the end of the couch and let me come at him full speed while he’d lob soft “punches” in return.  When I bobbed, weaved and got in a good punch, he’d fall backwards and feign like I knocked him out. 

Strangely enough, my father became a far more hands-on parent in my adulthood.  When I first ran for political office in 2002, my dad would literally commute from my South-of-Chicago hometown to Cincinnati every week to help with my congressional campaign.  I was an unknown non-profit director at the time running against a very powerful incumbent.  I got my butt kicked, but the consolation prize was the incredible “everyday” time I had with my father driving to church festivals and other campaign events.  Many in Cincinnati’s political circles came to know my dad as a fixture on the campaign trail.  Indeed in 2004, when I ran for congress a second time, my dad repeated the same ritual . . . commuting several hours each week to help out.  By then, most politicos knew him, and it was more like a homecoming.  That was a fun, spirited campaign in an intense presidential election year.  But I was still very much the underdog, and when you are an underdog you often find yourself working like mad to win a race that no one thinks you can win, and often are met with ridicule by patronizing reporters and dismissive campaign donors that seem to take you less seriously for even trying.  In those trying circumstances, having love and unconditional support in your corner is a God-send. 

It was a bit off seeing a father who I looked up to my entire life undertake the role of a humble campaign worker . . . helping me with candidate surveys, marching in parades, handing out collateral at festivals . . . event after event.  I remember vividly the day we were sitting side by side at computers in the campaign office when he suddenly announced “Paul Wellstone died in a plane crash.”  (I am a graduate of Camp Wellstone, the late senator’s campaign organizing school.)  I never got to win an election and taste victory with my father, which is one of my deep regrets, although I know he is no less proud of me.

I now have two sons, and so grateful they have the chance to interact with and get to know my father.  He’s their “poppa.”  He taught my 8-year old son Nathan last summer how to throw a spiral, and starred on stage for a community production of a Christmas Carol, which was my son’s first play. 

I was blessed with two exceptional parents, but today is the day I pay tribute to my father.  I firmly believe that every day I go about my work with conviction and integrity and stay true to my values is a day I’m befitting of his example.  Next month I will turn 40, and very much hope that when my young sons are my age, they look back at me with a similar reverence for their old man. 

My parents are the reason I have the courage to do what’s right, and have made this recovering politician feel like a winner even in defeat.