Tabern Live Column: Thanks for being a great dad...
By Inter-County Leader Editor Robert Tabern
In my lifetime, I have written thousands of news stories on countless topics. But the absolute hardest comes tonight. My own dad’s obituary. This is a moment I have been preparing myself for, for a while because it was inevitable given the terminal cancer diagnosis last year. However, at the same time, it’s a moment this usually extremely deadline-driven editor has been putting off, too, for a few days now, in fact, just because I didn’t want to have to do it. We have probably all been there or will be there, unfortunately. But the obit has to absolutely be done tonight in order to make it into the Sunday weekly newspapers down in Chicago, ahead of his funeral on Friday, Jan. 13. Absolutely no more option to delay, Robert.
Sigh. Eyes closed. Gather courage from all of the people who have said kind words. Even random strangers. I even had someone drop off a book about grieving for me here at the newspaper after reading my dad was ill. Incredibly generous! Gather strength. My wife. Family. Friends. And many co-workers, like my reporters here, who are a source of strength and quickly becoming like my adopted North Woods family. But, now, it’s 8:30 p.m., everyone is gone for the night at the Leader, except me. I have all the lights down in my office. The only illumination is from my computer screen … a solitary candle that I just bought … and dim lights dancing from the gas station across the street, which I can see through my black window curtains.
So, I will dedicate my column here in the Leader this month to telling my dad what a great dad he was. Plain and simple. Maybe you can do the same if you’re lucky enough to have your ‘pops’ still in your life, since mine won’t be around to read my columns anymore. Remember, there is nothing wrong with telling someone how much you love them and how much they mean to you, especially when they are still alive. In fact, I recently had a conversation with a friend (they’ll remain anonymous, but they know who they are) about how I believe it is so incredibly important to tell people you love them. Go ahead and give them a hug, even if they are not normally a hugger. It’s OK to show emotions. Even us dudes. It is not a sign of weakness or that you are vulnerable. Life is short. You never know when will be the last time you see someone, so there is no need to be an emotionless robot and be afraid to express love, shed a tear, be there for a friend who is having a rough day, or take that “I’m too busy” extra 15 minutes to spend with special people in your life.
You can read the obituary in the paper if you want. I will wrap up by sharing a quick bit of one of the last conversations I was able to have with my dad, just a week or so before he died. We both got a good chuckle reflecting on our relationship over the years. Perhaps because I was the youngest child, I am admittedly sometimes extremely hard-headed and stubborn. My dad was also the youngest child, so you can guess how he turned out, too. Sometimes it would lead to clashes in personality and I’d purposely do the opposite of what he wanted. Consciously or subconsciously. There was extreme pressure on me, even at a young age, to “carry on the family name,” as I was the last male Tabern left, going back on the family tree that he traced on Ancestry.com to somewhere in the 1300s. So, what did I do? Not get married until 33 … and then decide not to have any kids of my own. There you go. Then, his father, my grandfather, Donalee Tabern, was a pretty well-known medical scientist. He actually invented sodium pentothal, better known as “truth serum” (no lie!), and is in the National Inventors Hall of Fame. I knew my dad really wanted me to follow in his footsteps and go into medical science or even be a doctor. What did I do? Go into journalism, history and writing, after barely getting a “C” in high school chemistry. Right!!? Through it all, including perhaps taking different life paths than he would have preferred, I know my dad loved me because he would tell me that and express his emotions. He was not afraid to call just to say, “I love you.”
The last photo I have with my dad was holding the first Leader newspaper I did as solo editor in November 2022 over his hospital bed. Despite having weeks left, his smile came through and he was proud of his son. Thanks for all your support, Dad. I will never forget you. Love, me.
