Enough is good.

Does anyone ever feel good enough?

Trying to make sense of the morose feelings sweeping through the condominium deck like the fog blowing over Grandfather Mountain, I sip my coffee and look for a way to make it through another Fathers’ Day. Like other imposed holidays, this one causes me to look in the mirror with abundant judgment, and compare myself to other fathers with cascading inadequacy. I should be used to it by now, but each year the feelings feel as fresh as ever.

Growing up with Hollywood’s rendition of the perfect father, with characters like Atticus Finch and Mufasa, it’s no wonder that many of us sit wilted when this day comes around. With a wonderful father of my own, who died before I could know anything but the legend, the wilting continues. And then, of course, there is my own record . . . the times when making a name for myself made work more important than my children, when expectations caused disappointment on vacations and family gatherings visible to all, and then a divorce that allows weekly visitations rather than daily encounters. There are good times, too, but like the bright light at my bathroom sink that shows all imperfections, holiday spotlights show cracks and scars with a vengeance.

I’m wise enough to know that Hollywood tells only part of the story, and that my father was as human as he was wonderful. I can probably even get to a place where I can embrace the good of my own fatherhood as easily as the bad, but I think the lesson in all of this lies beyond specific examples and more in the way we all look at life. We have been taught that only the best will do, that perfection is achievable, and have become blind to what lies on the way to extremes.

What if we embrace the less than perfect, the cracked as well as the polished? I suppose my greatest wish for all fathers, mothers, wives, husbands, sons, and daughters, executives, students, artists, and athletes is to know that enough is good.