My Father's Love

1 My father and I were watching a video in which my two-year-old nephew, Cameron, ran into view with a spoon sticking out of his mouth. "He'll trip, and that spoon will go right into his throat," my father said with worry.

2 Like most parents, Dad has always tried to protect his children. As a doctor, too, he is especially conscious of the many dangers surrounding us.

3 I remember having dinner at a friend's house once and being surprised that nobody said a word about food poisoning. At home, the question "Did you wash your hands?" was asked at every single meal.

4 Restaurants and cafeterias, Dad warned, presented many risks—from careless waiters who might drop hot coffee onto your head, to employees who didn't wash their hands.

5 Fashion, too, could be dangerous, according to my father. A few years ago, he took away my coat because he said I hadn't had it made right. When I asked him about it, Dad put the coat on to show me how serious the problem was.

6 "Look—it's too long, even on me, and it's almost at your ankles. And this material is so heavy that it could pull you down."

7 "I have never heard of anyone being injured by too heavy a coat."

8 "Do you want to be the first? Just cut it off here," he said, drawing his hand across his knees.

9 Fashion was only one of the many dangers against which we had to guard ourselves. To this day, when I walk within yards of tree branches, I pause and hear Dad's voice: "Watch your eyes!"

10 Of course, as children, we did not always listen to Dad. We had our broken bones, car accidents, and illnesses—some of which might have been avoided if we had followed his advice.

11 When my brothers and sisters and I talk about the old days, we recall Dad's telling us not to jump too hard and high while playing sports because of the possibility of backbone injury, and the driving directions he gave us with as few left turns as possible. Now, we find ourselves giving similar warnings: We phone my younger brother to tell him that we read about someone dying from food poisoning, or my younger sister to alert her to the high lead content of certain window coverings .

12 Now, Dad has a new generation to guide. His grandchildren have caught on quickly, knowing to shake their fingers and say "That's dangerous!" at the sight of cleaning products. "That's too big a bite—be careful," three-year-old Margaret tells her two-year-old sister at the holiday dinner table. As everyone is leaving, we all laugh when my niece says goodbye to Dad: "Be careful, Grandpa!"

13 After each weekend visit at my parents' home, I have my father drop me off at the quiet train station for my trip back to Manhattan. As I wait, I can see his car in the parking lot; I know that he is watching to see that I board safely.

14 When I am seated, I watch him drive off, wanting, as I do more and more often now, to protect him from the world's sharp edges, the way he has always tried to protect us. I wish I could give him the reassurance his worrying and caring have given me.

15 As the train pulls away, I say quietly, "Be careful, Dad."