June has always been a month of celebrations in my family. My dad and two older sisters were born in June, my parents were married in June, and of course, there's Father's Day. Mixed in with an already busy month, my dad generally preferred if no fuss was made over him. In his mind, he was just doing his job. I was lucky enough to have the kind of dad who was short on words but long on presence. He attended our ball games, school plays, concerts, always putting family and close friends above self.
Our father had a pretty good formula, and it came naturally: if you care for someone, you show up.
Dan Brady
As an introvert, my dad's work and his large, boisterous family was about all the social life he needed. He wasn't big on small talk, so when he took the time to form friendships, they were deep. One friendship, that we mentioned in a Father's Day post last year, truly endured not only because of a shared bond as transplants to a small town in Iowa when they were kids, but also to an intentional decision to stay connected over the years.
The friendship between my dad, my Uncle Jim Brady and their friend Jim Hagen, started in the 1940s, when the two Jims were classmates and willing to let a younger brother tag along wherever they went. Jim Hagen had only sisters, so was happy to form a brotherhood with the Brady boys. The Brady boys had experienced the tragic loss of twin infant sisters, resulting in a depressed and detached mother, so they were happy to be welcomed into the warm and engaging Hagen clan.
As the boys grew, their friendship did too. Jim Hagen was the first to get married, and his wife Mary recently recalled that she quickly recognized that the Bradys were a 'package deal' with her boyfriend Jim. She laughed about early dates with her husband of 60+ years that consisted of herself and "Jim & John, or Jim & Jim." She told us of a post-honeymoon visit by the Brady men to their small apartment in St. Louis as newlyweds. The Hagens had a pullout sofa for their marital bed, and my dad and his brother thought nothing of setting up army cots a few feet away to spend the night. After all, Jim was family, so Mary was now too.
By the 1970s, the Brady and Hagen families were fully formed. We were fortunate to live across town from the Hagens in suburban Arlington, Virginia, for several years. My siblings, Brady cousins and I befriended the Hagen kids and have stayed connected in the decades since. When I was pursuing my MBA in marketing, Jim Hagen provided helpful guidance and connections, having built a career in railroad marketing before his eventual rise to CEO of a freight railroad he had helped build. My sister Monica and Jim's son Joe bonded over their work in public radio, acting as professional sounding boards as well as friends.
And, in 2016, when my father passed away and we celebrated his life in our adopted hometown of Lexington, Kentucky, Jim Hagen's presence there meant the world to us. By then, he was approaching his mid-80s and we weren't sure he'd be up for the trip from his home in coastal North Carolina. We had lost my Uncle Jim 30 years earlier to cancer, and with my mom's dementia, Jim Hagen provided a critical link from my dad's early life, long before he became a father. The hugs and tears my siblings and I shared with him were a blessing.
Jim is now 91, his wife Mary is 89. My younger sister and I had a long overdue visit with them and their son Joe on a recent trip to their North Carolina town. They are as sharp as ever, regaling us with stories of the Brady boys and the friendship that endures through our intergenerational connections. It's a friendship that reminds us of the bonds that can transcend geography, decades, and loss.
As we approach the 90th anniversary of my father's birth, I am grateful for the friendship legacy he left us. He showed us that an important aspect of fatherhood is modeling friendship: how to be a friend, how to laugh with friends, and how to extend friendships to future generations. My dad stoically faced life's challenges and modeled how to keep things in perspective. His observational sense of humor was a hallmark trait, and our visit and laughs with Jim Hagen was a great reminder of that.
A father carries pictures where his money used to be.
Steve Martin
Happy Heavenly Father's Day to my Dad, and to the countless father figures who continue to impact our lives. Today we honor you, and every day, we appreciate the difference you make and laughs you share.
My dad, John Brady (left), with his dear friend Jim Hagen (right) in 2004.
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