Dad
Many men who walk this earth are dads, teachers, coaches, friends, and husbands, but few did it like my our dad. He made his mark, left a legacy, and will be remembered. He was flawed, but he owned these flaws. I think he loved his flaws and he respected being ‘real’. An intense, passionate, generous man, he was fiercely loyal and had a hearty laugh.
You would be hard pressed to find a tougher dad than ours. He taught us four kids to be strong, determined, hard-working, and excited about life. He did this through grueling lessons in picking up leaves from the hedges, fierce Sunday bike rides to the Country Club, private coaching lessons AFTER the game, cut throat, family softball games, and boxing matches that drew blood. Growing up a Mau kid was not for the weak. His time was devoted to us and our family. We spent our summers camping and traveling. The car ride was the best part. He loved controversy, was always up for a discussion, and admired you if you stuck to your guns. We learned to have opinions and stand up for our beliefs. Over the years, many kids lived with us because they needed a place to crash or time to reform. I don’t think he ever turned anyone away. As we grew, ventured into the world, stumbled over life mistakes, we found that our dad was always there. Sometimes he would shake his head, but he always, always was on our side. We would learn that loyalty was one of his strongest traits.
As a grampa, he had a nickname for every grandkid. He was the gruff kind of grampa who scared some while others saw right through the whole ‘gruff’ persona. Getting to know each new kid was an adventure for him. Missing a sporting event, baptism, or graduation was not an option. My dad made financial and ‘golf’ sacrifices to be at grandkid events. He took Lamaze classes before Jacqui was born and had to listen to the World Series with only half of the headphones on. That is sacrifice!
As a coach, he was almost as intense as a dad. A coach who teaches his 10 year old kick off team turn to the crowd, wave goodbye because they were ‘Kamikaze kids’, is intense. Each year he coached, he came up with a theme, a slogan, a motto, a cheer. I remember him cutting out intricate panther emblems out of green sticker material. I’m telling you, it was intricate and there was one for every helmet. “Panther! Power!” and “Mean Green Machine” still rings in my ears. My dad could motivate, inspire, and excite! Fiercely competitive, he demanded excellence, enthusiasm, and hard work and every player who played for him, remembers him. Through coaching, he changed lives.
The title Mr. Mau meant respect, discipline, and love to his students at Casa Floral. The law kept him from mentioning names, but we always knew that he cared deeply for his students. He had immense compassion for a child’s situation in life, yet he absolutely required discipline. He knew that discipline was their key to success. He played softball or some sport with them daily. He played viciously and came home injured many times from sliding into second. I can only imagine what these games meant to his students. He set up a boxing ring for students to resolve conflict. His theme was Tradition! There was nothing fancy about his classroom, nothing pretty, no technology, but there was tradition.
Sports was more than just a pastime. He was a player, coach, spectator, and loyalist. He took things seriously. The NFL draft was something he obsessed about for weeks with pencil drawn spreadsheets and clearing the calendar so his thumb could be on the pulse of the draft. He would drive hours to a game, gather friends for playoff, invest in clothing so you would always know his loyalties. Sports loyalty was an intricate system of where one was born, the university you attended, and where you presently lived. There were clauses for loyalties if you attended a college in another state or if your children attended college. The basic rule was that you root for your local team. And if you were from California, lucky for you!! My dad was not one of those ‘I only watch college ball’ or ‘I’m an NFL guy’ kind of fans. He could watch any sport, at any level and become passionately involved. I’ve seen him cheer as ferociously for a middle school basketball game as a Laker’s game. He just loved a game!
Golf ended up being his game of choice. He approached golf as he did everything in his life, with dedication, discipline, and enthusiasm. His handicap became good, but humility always reigned. He had little tolerance for ‘cockiness’. Golf and poker friends were some of the favorite people in his life. As kids, we knew that Wednesday night meant Poker Night. He relished in the differences, the controversy, and the competition.
Not many people get a ‘love of their life’. My mom was the love of his life. Their courtship was short. They just ‘knew’ and he knew an angel when he saw one. We questioned his harsh ways, but he always assured us that we didn’t understand the depth of their love. They had one of those relationships, connections, and loves that transcended our everyday understanding of a marriage. We once played the Newlywed game asking tough questions for one of their anniversaries. Their answers matched every time. I still marvel at the intuitive nature of the relationship kids just can’t understand. We watched the love and care my mom and dad showed as they faced this journey of cancer. My dad never complained. My mom never faltered. They modeled grace, love and strength only found in great literature or maybe mythology. We will be changed forever from watching this love story unfold before our eyes.
What a great life he had. It was full of fun, passion, meaning and love. His legacy will be felt for generations to come. He was larger than life during his life. As he received emails from friends and family in response to his ‘updates’, he was overwhelmed with the love he felt, and because of that, he considered himself the luckiest man alive. He definitely did it his way.