Happy Father’s Day Dad

Father’s Day (and Mother’s Day for that matter) is a lot easier to remember than someone’s birthday. For one who flaunts with cluelessness, it’s nice to have the constant media reminders for weeks on end. I think my dad’s birthday is May 8th, but I know that today is Father’s Day. Having just perused the thick Sunday paper, I’ve come to the conclusion that if I cashed in on all the sales advertised within, I could probably retire by sundown.

My dad certainly qualifies to be included with the multitude of other fathers getting recognized this fine day, but in another sense he is one of a kind. He never displayed the need to play a role of some American male ideal. He was who he was and is who he is. I never got the feeling that he had anything to prove to anyone. He was comfortable being himself.

He has his hobbies—always a big fan of cars, with a canny ability to distinguish between make and model and degree of originality. And he has his occupation—hobby 2—playing in the mud, making dry walls smooth and straight. Having passed 65 some years ago, people often ask me if my dad is retired. I usually tell them that he’s having too much fun and his job is easier than the many jobs my mom would have for him at home. I speak in jest, but with a lot of truth thrown in.

But most of all, my dad was mine. He was always there, always available to come to the rescue. If I was in a pinch, I knew whom to call.

He is generally a very quiet guy and seldom gave me unsolicited advice. But when asked, he was usually ready with the right words for the situation. Never afraid to say “I don’t know,” but when pressed, he always seemed able to figure stuff out.

Sociologists like to make links between belief in the divine and childhood experiences. I’m sure their studies have some validity. But on a personal note, I often think that the words, actions, and presence of my own father have made it very easy for me to live in faith, developing a relationship with a heavenly Father that cares, cherishes, and goes to bat for me whether I notice it or not.

So with eternal gratitude, I offer an on-time, on-line happy father’s day. Now I better run so I can find a card before the day is gone. (I need something in print, since computers are not his thing.)