I was born in the mid-50s and grew up in the turbulent '60s and the bland '70s. It was a great time to be a child, but it was equally tough to be a dad back then. The role of fathers in the domestic landscape was that of benevolent benefactor, something of a benign king overseeing his kingdom. Dads brought in the bacon, and moms ruled the home front and cooked it up. Unlike the modern fathers of today, men weren't encouraged to buck traditional roles and become more involved in their children's lives.

My father was like that.

My father came from a traditional family. His own immigrant father placed more value on sons than daughters. My aunt suffered greatly as a result. I grew up in a time where there was an additional invisible wall that dads and daughters didn't breach. Some of that may have been the foundation of his upbringing. I'll never know.

Add to the equation the fact that my father was a career military man. He wasn't home very much. He fought in both Korea and Vietnam, and was called away to fight fires and maintain the peace at convention riots. When he came home, it was sometimes an awkward re-acquaintance that would take days, if not weeks, to reconcile. Even in a situation like that, not at all balanced and nurturing, I managed to glean quite a lot from my father just by osmosis.

I learned that a good dad never abandons his children. I was born overseas while he was stationed in Okinawa. He married my mother in Japan, but the Department of Defense didn't immediately recognize the union. My parents spent two years filling out paperwork so they could marry. In the meantime, I was born. It would have been far easier to return to the United States without us, but he worked hard to bring us over legally.

As a result, I have very strong opinions regarding immigration.

His devotion to military service wasn't always easy for me to take. I have vivid and disturbing memories of his friends talking about killing people with a sense of glee. I was staunchly anti-war as a teenager, but on the other hand, the Army was paying our bills and sustaining our family. Back then, like now, the war wasn't a popular one, and the families weren't taken care of.

When I see a soldier now, I know part of the story behind the uniform. I see his family and his sacrifice. I might not agree with war, but I understand the mechanics of the bigger picture.

I knew my father longed for a son, but he had to wade through the births of three daughters before he got his wish. Before my brother was born, my father contented himself with dragging us to camping and fishing expeditions. He was relentless.