06/20/2007

Posted by request:

For Fathers' Day, Chip Bertino yields his column space to his wife Susan.
It’s All About: My Dad
By Susan Bertino

Bob and Susan

How is the strength of a man measured?  Is it in the load he carries, the backbreaking work he endures, the push beyond exhaustion for the well being of his family?  All of the above is true but it is also measured in the gentle caress of  his child's cheek, the ride on his shoulders and feel of his hand guiding a bike whose training wheels have been removed.

When I was little my dad was the biggest man I knew.  He could scoop not just me up in his arms but my sister and brother too.  He could carry all three of us on his back pony style.  He could climb down ravines and explore gullies in the Rocky Mountains with my younger brother in a backpack carrier.

It was my dad who explained to me that my horned lizard would be much happier living in the wild than in a tissue box.  It was he who held my hand when I released my lizard to the wild.  It was my dad who knelt before me and told me our beloved dog of 12 years had passed away.  It was my dad, the great hater of cats, whose heart melted when a stray adopted us for his own and cuddled up to my father.  He has had a cat ever since.

My father made the Army his career and we followed him from duty station to duty station: from high in the Rocky Mountains to the shores of Virginia; from the hot dusty plains of Oklahoma to the rolling green hills of Pennsylvania.  Traveling was a part of our lives and we did it well.  Car bingo, I Spy, coloring books, puzzles and our game of TROUBLE with its pop-o-matic dice roller, we crisscrossed the country several times. Then we hopped the pond to Germany and roamed the European countryside.  With my dad at the helm we saw things most people never see in a lifetime.  Versailles, the Eiffel Tower, the beaches at Normandy, the Alps, Vatican City, the Catacombs and so much more.

My father commanded a battalion and worked to build a brigade (5 battalions).  He then commanded that brigade.  I have grown up watching men look up to my father.  Big, strong, intelligent (and some not so intelligent) men would look to my father for guidance and counsel.  I have seen my father work side by side with the lowliest private and offer advice to the highest ranking general.  My father has always led by example.  Never asking anyone to do something that he himself would not do.

When my father retired from the Army in 1988 he went on to help build a successful business.  He did that for almost 10 years before really retiring in Ocean Pines.  He has built at least four decks, remodeled a kitchen, painted countless walls, hauled mounds of soil and mulch all for his own home as well as the homes of his children.  He has introduced all 10 of his grandchildren to boating, fishing, clamming and crabbing.

When my husband and I, okay mostly my husband, came up with the "brilliant" idea of starting this newspaper, my father stepped in as editor.  He has logged in countless hours at commissioners' meetings, OPA board meetings, ARC meetings and other community events not to mention the remodeling of our offices.  What can I say?  The man is amazing with a hammer and paintbrush.

In December 2006 my dad was diagnosed with ALS or more commonly known as Lou Gehrig's disease.  ALS is a degenerative disease with no cure.  My once strong and robust father has lost most of the muscles in his arms and legs.  This wielder of the hammer and paintbrush can no longer lift his hand above his head.  He can walk only with the aid of a walker but is mostly confined to a wheelchair.  He will become weaker with the passing of time and eventually this disease will take him from us.  And yet my father's will has remained strong.  He is still the central presence in the room.  His humor pours forth from him like an old time remedy.  His body has weakened but his faith in God remains strong.  He can no longer fix the broken hallway light but he can call up the stairs to offer advice on the placement of the ladder.  He cannot make his famous pea soup anymore but he can guide his granddaughter through the steps of the recipe.  He cannot serve his country anymore but he can help his grandson along that path of service.  He cannot run a mile anymore but he can play a mean game of chess with another grandson.  His wisdom and his guidance are still sought by his friends and his entire family. 

You know, my dad is still the biggest man I know.

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