In their inner writer, dads find their legacies
02:04 PM CDT on Wednesday, May 31, 2006
By DAVE TARRANT / The Dallas Morning News
Ross Jantz has had lots of experience writing letters.
"I've written hundreds of business letters," says the 75-year-old retired IBM executive.
But nothing quite prepared him for the one he sat down to compose three months ago.
It was a letter to his wife of 54 years, something to express what she meant to him. And that required doing what he'd always found difficult in his marriage: expressing his emotions.
"I'm a quiet sort of person," he says. Mr. Jantz recognized that he needed help if he was ever going to get the letter written. "I wasn't getting any younger."
He found it in a group named Letters From Dad.
The group works mostly through churches to encourage dads to write letters to their kids and other loved ones.
Founded by Greg Vaughn of Richardson about two years ago, it has received national attention.
After his father died, Mr. Vaughn was cleaning out his father's garage. He came across his dad's old tackle box, full of fishing lures. That's all he had for the legacy of his dad. Mr. Vaughn says his father left nothing behind that conveyed how he felt about his children.
Mr. Vaughn found others who had the same experience. He and a dozen other men started the first Letters From Dad group.
Each man would write a letter to his wife, children and parents. And then he would write a letter to be read after his death.
As word spread, more groups formed.
Up to then, Mr. Vaughn, 56, had spent the better part of his 30-year film career making Christian videos. That work yielded a natural network for marketing Letters From Dad.
A year ago, Mr. Vaughn started conducting training sessions for church leaders, military chaplains and others who wanted to start Letters From Dad groups. He charges $595 to train two men as "legacy leaders." The fee covers teaching materials and a CD.
The $95 fee to enroll in a Letters From Dad class includes a leather binder for holding letters, instructional material, a set of sample letters and a copy of Mr. Vaughn's book, Letters From Dad (Integrity Publishers, $21.99).
Men are also encouraged to buy an engraved mahogany box, which costs $58, for holding special letters.
Some think of Mr. Vaughn's program as a little like scrapbooking for men. But if the point is to put pen to paper and write from the heart, why do you need all the fancy paper and boxes?
"I hear that all the time: 'I'm not going to spend 95 dollars to write letters,' " he says.
He tells naysayers that most men never get around to writing those emotional letters on their own. They need encouragement.
As for the mahogany box: "It's a no-brainer. Without a treasure chest for your treasures, they'll get lost," he says.
"It's a modern-day hope chest."
One evening recently, Mr. Jantz stood up to talk to a group of men enrolled in a Letters From Dad program at McKinney Fellowship Bible Church.
He says it took a lot of drafts but he finally got the letter to his wife right.
"I put it in a nice frame, and I mean it's not a $3.98 frame."
Then he took his wife out to Ruth's Chris Steak House. After dinner, he presented her with the framed letter.
He read the letter to the men at the church gathering.
My Dearest Pat,
Little did I realize that my offer to drive the school bus on a substitute basis would be the beginning of a love fest that would last for over 54 years. That bus route took me from the school building around the county for 45 miles to arrive at my last stop. Your stop. It was the beginning of a wonderful journey for me. A journey that has taken us through mountain top experiences and some that were down in the valleys. By the time he reached the end of the letter, the man who had trouble expressing his emotions had just about everyone in tears.
... Even though we are already in our 70's I look forward to "growing old" and experiencing life together. I love you with all my heart; you are a gift from God -- my best friend and the love of my life ... Forever Yours.
Mr. Jantz says he and his wife both cried. Then they smiled as a waiter took their picture.
"It was a pretty exciting evening," he says.
But he didn't stop there.
Last year, his daughter moved to Texas after losing her husband to Parkinson's disease. A former Army Ranger, he had been an invalid for 12 years.
Mr. Jantz wondered what he could say to her. He remembered that his father had died without leaving anything that expressed the way he felt about his son. Mr. Jantz forged ahead.
It was a short letter, about a page. But it summed all he needed to say: He loved her, he wrote, and he offered her his blessings.
