I wonder how many of my readers remember the 1965 song, “I am Henry the Eighth, I am,” by Herman’s Hermits. Well, I am William the Fifth, I am.
I get a little grief about that little “V” at the end of my name from time to time. Some people even tell me they’d “never do that to a child”, or “a child needs his own identity.” Hogwash! I’m proud of my “V”, and all of the roman numerals before me. My first son is just as proud of his “VI”. Not to say that my younger boy, Henry, isn’t equally proud to be the first!
I’m sad, though, that I know virtually nothing about William I, II, or even III. Their stories died with them. I know that they had interesting lives. I just know it. Even if each considered his own life mundane, I’m certain that I would read his story with relish. I want to know about his adventures, his loves, his day-to-day experiences. Who was his first girlfriend? What did he do for a living? What were his greatest threats? I’d love to know about his faith, his friends, and his in-laws. I’ll never know about these great men, as their stories died with them. That’s disappointing to me and a little sad for them.
I never knew that I’d grow to have a passion for the personal life story. I guess I’ve found myself on a bit of a mission. With Father’s Day around the corner, take this opportunity to make a record of old Dad’s life. What a great way to show your love and respect. What a great gift to your kids and theirs.
William the Fifth, I am!
