Gregory Freeman: The Most Important Man In The World. 6/21/1992

Headline: THE MOST IMPORTANT MAN IN THE WORLD
Reporter: By Gregory Freeman

Publication: ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
Last Printed: Sun., June 21, 1992
Section: NEWS, Page: 4B, Edition: LATE FIVE STAR

It was only a small item in the Post-Dispatch that ran on June 1, 1971.
A man was killed in an accident at the Main Post Office. Frederic W. Freeman, 44, a postal clerk, was crushed to death Sunday by a trailer on the parking lot of the Main Post Office, 1710 Clark Avenue.
Lamont Houston, 242 4 Gaty Avenue, East St. Louis, backed a tractor to hook up a trailer, and Freeman, unseen by Houston, was crushed against a loading dock, police reported.

Frederic W. Freeman was my father. He was no big shot. His job wasn't a prominent one. He didn't rub shoulders with the wealthy or the powerful. But to our family, he was the most important man in the world.
We - my mother, my 10-year-old sister and I, 14 at the time - were devastated when we learned the news. Our world had changed. No longer would there be someone to tell me to ''stop watching so much TV and let's go out and throw a ball.'' Gone was the man I would laugh at when he and my mother did ''old-fashioned'' dancing in the living room when they played a record on the hi-fi. No longer around was the man who made the best home-made biscuits this side of Pillsbury.

Not a week goes by now that I don't think about my dad. I compare myself to him often, sometimes observing my own skills as a parent and wondering how they measure up to his, other times wondering how he would respond in certain situations.
The advice he offered when he was alive I remember today like the 10 Commandments; advice such as, ''Nothing good comes easy, '' and ''If you're going to do something, do it right or don't do it at all.''
Not quite proverbs, but words that stick with me to this day.

My sister and I were fortunate. Our mother was strong - and smart - and saw to it that our lives were disrupted as little as possible after his death. She kept us on the straight and narrow, kept our household together and made sure that both of us attended college. She made sure that education continued to be important in our family. I'll always be grateful to her for that.
But nothing could lessen the pain that I felt when my father died.

I thought of all the things that we'd done together - kite flying, tossing a ball in the backyard, fishing in Forest Park. I thought about how we'd go to ballgames together when I received Post-Dispatch ''Straight-A'' tickets to see the Cardinals at Busch Stadium. I thought about the piggyback rides he used to give me when I was younger.
To this day, I think about the things that we did together. And then I wish desperately that he was still here.

How I'd love to have him back - if only for half an hour - to seek his advice, ask him questions, tell him what I've done and give him a big hug.
My dad was always interested in current events, and he paid close attention to the news. I'd love to have discussions with him today about presidential politics, the Rodney King issue, the South Africa situation and other issues in the news.
On occasion, I've even had dreams about him coming back.

And I find myself on occasion wondering how my life may have differed had he lived. Would I have gone to the same college? Would I have become a journalist? Would I have been a different kind of father?
And I wish that my dad had had the opportunity to meet my son. He's 11 years old and, in many ways, reminds me of myself at that age. I often tell William what his grandfather was like, but I'd give anything for them to be able to meet just once.

I suppose no matter how old one gets to be, one never really gets over the death of a parent.
And that's why those who do still have their fathers today should consider themselves fortunate.
Because when they're gone, they're gone, and life is much different.

My wife and son have plans for me today, and I am proud to be a father. I hope that I am doing everything that I can to be a good father to my son.
But I also wish that I had someone to wish a happy father's day to today as well.
Someone I could thank for all of his efforts to raise me right, to teach me a work ethic, to do so many things with me that I have the pleasant memories of him that I have today.

To those who still have their fathers, cherish them - not just today, Father's Day, but every day. We often don't value our parents nearly enough until they're gone.
And then, of course, it's too late.

I miss you, Dad.

Daniel Schesch - Webweaver

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