They don’t make ’em like Bill Roccia anymore. I’m not sure they ever did. He was an abnormality, a mutant and a miracle. He was certainly glued together wrong in a lot of ways – most of his personality was just too big to fit in the normal places that life carves out for people. It didn’t matter; such was his might that he made rooms bigger just by walking into them. He didn’t just fill a room himself; he made room for you, too, and you were thrilled to be there.
And oh the joy he took in his children! The way he told stories, both to us and about us. The way our triumphs were his triumphs and our troubles his burdens to share. The way he pushed us to be better but believed we were the best in the world. Everything he was as a man, he was ten times as much as a father.
I couldn’t fill his shoes if I was a hundred times bigger. But there are few on this Earth that got to study at the feet of a master like that, and so I do have something of an advantage. Any time my father and I would do any sort of competitive game, from shooting pool to throwing axes in his garage, he’d soundly beat me nine times out of ten. And he’d always smile that charming smile and say, “Well, there’s no shame in being beaten by the best.”
So if I’m never truly the best father ever? If all those drawings my kids make me that say “#1 Dad” are off by one? I’ll take it in stride. I’m giving it my all, and being a better father for the effort. And there’s no shame in being beaten by the best.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I miss you.
The Opportunity Machine 