612 29th St. NW, Rochester, MN

“I cannot think of any need in childhood as strong as the need for a father’s protection” – Sigmund Freud

(I won’t often quote Freud – but that one seemed appropriate)

I was talking the other day with my oldest son about snow and walking to school through it (though not uphill both ways). When I was in kindergarten and first grade we lived in Rochester Minnesota. I lived under a mile from school (though not by much) and thus had to walk to school – those were the rules. It turns out there were uphill stretches in both directions.

The conversation got me to wondering if I could find that hold house back in Minnesota. I hadn’t been there in, well, quite a while. So I went to digging on google maps. I knew the name of the school and the general layout of how I walked home. Sure enough – I tracked it down. We lived at 612 29th St. NW in Rochester MN.

I have fond memories of those days. As I sat for just a bit reminiscing, something rather interesting dawned on me. I just turned 38. When we lived in that house my father was the same age as I am now. Oddly, that threw me for just a second.

When you’re five you see the world differently. At 38 I see all my own flaws and blemishes, all my own shortcomings. But at five I saw none in my father. He was a hero of epic proportions. He was an indomitable figure, unflappable, the most incredible of humans.

I scratched my head for just a moment with this. I still view my father in much the same way, mind you, though perhaps with more adult eyes. Still, I had to pose a simple postulate. Either my father was truly the epic figure I saw in those days, or he was human just like the rest of us … which means my kids likely see me as the same type of hero. However undeservedly, however wrong their impressions of “Super Daddy” might be, they quite possibly see me that way just the same.

This is a daunting prospect.

Wherever you find yourself today, be super.

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One Response to 612 29th St. NW, Rochester, MN

  1. Interesting that you would write about this today… just last night, prompted by some father-son interaction on a TV show we were watching, my mind wandered to exactly this same thought. I am also 38 (in fact, as you are frequently quick to point out, I am slightly “more 38” than you :)). It occurred to me that when my father was my age, I was seventeen.

    Dad == hero.

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