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I don't do tributes. You won't find me giving a tribute as a
formal speech, and you certainly won't find me writing one
anytime soon.
It's not because I'm terrified of public speaking or
writing, quite the contrary. I'm a scholar and a tenured
professor. I engage in public speaking all the time. I've
given keynote addresses, I've provided statements to local
news agencies, I've given tons of conference presentations,
etc. Moreover, I don't mind writing. I've published multiple
books, articles and book chapters. And, a couple more
details about me: I teach college writers for a living and
earned a PhD in rhetoric and writing. So clearly, I have no
problem with speaking or writing and, perhaps, excel at
both.
But, I do have a problem with tributes. The tribute is a
genre with which most of us are familiar, especially, for
those of us who grew up in the Black Church like I did. As a
PK (Preacher’s Kid), I've heard dozens of tributes in church
to my parents, especially my father who pastors Center of
Hope Baptist Church. As a scholar, I recognize that all
genres have conventions--rules and features that are
characteristic of the genre; the tribute is no exception.
Good tributes honor and celebrate the contributions of
individuals and how those individuals have impacted the life
of the person giving the tribute. Tributes are deeply
meaningful and personal: They often describe very specific
experiences, reveal key insights about personal
relationships between the person giving the tribute and the
person being honored by the tribute. And finally, they evoke
an emotional appeal that can sometimes bring folks to tears.
Perhaps the final convention, emotional appeal, is why I
don't do tributes. I don't want to cry. I don't want to show
that kind of vulnerability publicly, especially not in
speech. Really, not in writing either but there is something
to be said about at least having the ability to hide behind
written words (perhaps this is why folks will produce more
aggressive prose on social media than through face-to-face
interaction, but I digress).
As I reflect on Father's Day, I find myself thinking about
whether or not I will ever give a real tribute. I've been
thinking about tributes more lately because my husband and
daughter recorded a three minute tribute and posted it on my
Facebook page this past Mother's Day. It was a tear-jerker
that concluded with my daughter singing a song she wrote for
me. After I watched the video, I leaned apologetically to my
husband, letting him know that he wouldn't receive such a
warm video for Father's Day in return, because I could never
provide a tribute that would compare remotely to the one he
and my daughter had given me.
Each Mother's Day and Father's Day, my older sister, Tracee,
publishes on Facebook the most lovely, carefully crafted
tributes for my parents. Last year, she published her
tribute to my father in The Truth. As a sibling who is
gifted in so many areas, one gift that I think folks
potentially miss with Tracee is her tremendous facility with
language and writing, something I think I'm qualified to
judge. It is her writing and personal tributes to our father
that has provided me with some inspiration to use the
tribute genre as a lens to reflect a little on the
relationship I have with our father for this year's Truth
article. I will call it a reflection, because I don't do
tributes.
My dad and I don't have a sappy, warm, or fuzzy
relationship. We don't have cute and cuddly nicknames for
each other (other than "knucklehead" or "mouse"). You won't
see us hugging each other, and even though we take our
annual Father's Day picture, posting it to Facebook, you
won't find my father smiling. We attempt to evoke tough
exteriors, perhaps because if we think too deeply about our
relationship with each other, we both will start crying.
Here's what I can say about our relationship: We value each
other's advice and expertise perhaps more than anyone
else's. We share collective worldviews, ways of seeing, and
ways of knowing the world. My worldview--the way I see and
understand the world--is shaped by my father's. One of the
things I've learned from him is the concept of holistic
balance. It was my father who taught me to balance my
spiritual and physical life, and my personal and
professional life. It was he who taught me that my spiritual
life guides and shapes how I practice self-care, how I
practice professional and academic integrity, and how I am
as a mother and wife.
Finally, it was my father who taught me intellectual rigor
and discipline in everything I do. Most folks who know me
see my discipline reflected as a PhD and scholar. But, it
was my father who taught the necessity of discipline with
every aspect of my life--whether through spirituality and
religion, marriage and parenting, academics, personal
training and fitness, or musical practice. Whenever my
father developed an interest or hobby (e.gs. cooking,
bowling, health and wellness [he texts multiple links to
food recalls or medical studies each week!!]), he would
study the hobby intently and would commit the time to
acquiring as much knowledge about the hobby or interest as
possible. My older sister has nicknamed me "Owly the Owl"
because I seek knowledge and information about everything
and not just for the work I do as a scholar. But, in
reality, I'm intellectual curious like my father, and he
probably was the first Owly the Owl.
In sum, I've scratched just a bit of the surface when
writing about the relationship I have with my father, a
surface that still made me cry as I wrote this. And, yes, it
is still true that I don't do tributes, but at least I am
now able to reflect on a couple of lessons that I've learned
from my father without completely breaking down.
Maybe next year, I'll probe a bit deeper with my reflection.
Staci Perryman-Clark, PhD, is an
internationally known scholar who has published widely in
rhetoric and writing studies. She is associate director of
the Office of Faculty Development, associate professor of
English, and director of First-Year Writing at Western
Michigan University. Perryman-Clark is the author of
Afrocentric Teacher-Research: Rethinking
Appropriateness and Inclusion
(Peter Lang, 2013) and was the 2015 recipient of the WMU
College of Arts and Sciences Faculty Achievement Award for
Excellence in Research, Scholarship and Creative Activities.
Contact Rev. Donald Perryman, D.Min, at
drdlperryman@centerofhopebaptist.org
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