Heroes hardly come in cape and costumes. Rarely do they ever know they are the heroes we have been looking for. Never do they assume on themselves the role we have assigned them. Such is the case with my father.
He was born in Ashtabula, Oh to Edith Ostrom Tuttle, a registered nurse, and Stuart Wayne Tuttle, a WW2 Veteran, on January 4th, 1949. He lived the typical life of any kid growing up in the Midwest with adventures filled with snow, paper routes, a dog named Sarge, an older sister, and a family who struggled to make ends meet.
Like many boys his age, he went in to the military. He joined the air force to avoid being drafted in to the army. He quickly learned the ways of life, and how to survive away from home. It was during this time (in the air force) that he ended up at Beale Air Force Base, found a church attend, and met my mom.
This is where our story together begins. Here are the memories of my father:
For as long as I've known, my dad has worked in a paint store, and he knows his job well. I've never seen anyone who can match a color better than my dad, just by looking at the color. I always know come spring, he's going to start cheering for the Cleveland Indians, and at some point, the 1954 season will enter the conversation. He loves animals. We've had dogs, rabbits, guinea pigs, birds, fish, and who knows what else. He has built more things for me and my brother than I can count: box hockey, spin arts, basket ball hoops, plinko games, and forts... loved the forts!
Along the way, he taught me how to live.
He raised me to love God and have a sincere faith in Christ. My father's humble spirit, and gentleness is evident to all who meet him. We were in church every Sunday and Wednesday. He didn't just take us, he was involved. He was my children's church teacher, my Royal Ranger commander, and my Sunday School teacher. And he knew how to make it fun. We have more games that he made that still fill up the garage in his home. I've been known to borrow them from time to time.
He was firm, but gentle, in discipline (as he reminded me today, even...). He taught me the importance of discipline and being self sufficient and doing well. In it all, there was never a doubt he loved me, because he always told me so.
He taught me character and integrity. He taught my brother and I to be honest, do the right thing, and do good for others. He taught us that it is more important to do right than be popular, for popularity is fleeting, but character and integrity last a lifetime. His name is worth it's weight in gold. Everyone I know, speaks very well of my father. He taught me how to respect others, and expect the best out of ourselves.
He made sure my brother and I had fun and loved life. We didn't always have much, but we had our family. He was there, and more than just present, he was active in our lives. He made our childhood memories filled with camp outs, slot cars, pinewood derbies, rabbits, guinea pigs, vacations, bb guns, and many endless adventures. He was my Royal Ranger commander, create of many great forts, and someone who always had a good story to tell, and I never get tired of hearing them. Practically every good childhood memory is with my dad and family. I still look forward to fishing, because you never know what a Tuttle fishing trip is going to be like. Lets just say we catch more limbs than fishes.
He taught me the value of hard work. I can still remember the day he called to tell me the owner of McDonald's was hiring, and my dad personally could help me get a job. Needless to say, I wasn't jumping for joy. But that wasn't his concern. He wanted me to learn the value of a dollar, and a job well done. I found myself doing many projects around the house from painting rooms, to removing fences, to cleaning up yards (we had dogs.) If our chores weren't done, we didn't go out and play, and we were given ample time. He was teaching us the values of life.
He is meticulous in doing a good job, no matter what he is doing. He is creative and intelligent. From building the shed that would survive a hurricane,to building go carts, rock smoothing machines, fire pits, puppet stages, and much more. He loved working with his hands. Late in the evening, If he's not sleeping in the recliner after a long day of work, he's busy in the back yard or the garage, "puttering" as he likes to call it.
He taught me how to love my family (and someday, my wife). Family always comes first to him. He reminded me of the prayers he prayed when I was weeks old, lying in the hospital, unsure if I would ever come home. I have seen in him the modeling of faithfulness, commitment, love, and compassion. I saw him care for months for my mom, faithfully visiting her, fighting for her when she couldn't fight for herself, and praying for her always, as she lay dying. I have seen him sleep in his truck overnight, just to be close to my mom, while she was sick. He would wake up, drive to work, then drive back (an hour) to be by her side.
That May, after my mom died, he was the first one I found at my graduation ceremony from Bethany University. He couldn't have been more proud. He always reminds me of how proud he is of me.
He continues to be a loving husband, now to Mary, his new wife of 3 years, and a father figure to Mary's daughter and her husband, Tom and Ange. He is a loving grandfather to my nieces, Natalie, Melanie, Austin, and Taylor.
He is known for always having a harmonica, wearing the same style shoes, and always wearing suspenders. I'm glad he never changed. I liked the consistency in a world that is always changing.
My father is a man of peace and patience. He is the most loving man I know, and the greatest example of who Christ has called us to be. Heroes do not hit baseballs, shoot hoops, star in movies, play instruments, and hold to the latest fashions. Heroes commit themselves to their family. Heroes teach their sons to be honorable men. True heroes strive for honor and integrity.
My dad's hard work of being a godly man is extended to others through his sons. When a student at Sutter High School has a class with my brother, a teacher, it's in no small part to my father. When a kid listens to me preaching about the importance of doing good, and having character, it is simply the extension of my father's words and actions I saw him model to me. When my niece Natalie, sings in the children's choir at church, it's because my father, long ago, instilled in us the importance of faithfully following Jesus.
He continues to be my father and my hero.
My Dad and I
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