I've been a dreadful blogger lately because every waking minute has been consumed by the approaching delivery of babies--nursery preparations for a real, pink, squishy little grand daughter, to be named Avery, (after my book), expected July 29th, and two literary babies the publisher is expecting me to deliver to him beginning June 30. Wonderful days. . .
But tomorrow is Father's Day, and our youngest son, Josh, who now lives in LA, is home for about 100 minutes, so we're trying to squeeze six months worth of loving into a millisecond, chatting his ears off, plying him with favorite foods--in this case crabs and steaks. (Pull out the wallet, this is going to ouch a bit.)
But what a delight that his arrival home to attend a friend's wedding coincided with Father's Day? Amanda, our only daughter, lives nearby with her growing family, and they do their best to keep us entertained, but having one of our sons come home on this weekend is the best present Tom and, for that matter, Amanda can have, as they tag-team to make this weekend special.
As to fathers, I caught this quote this morning:
"The father of a daughter is nothing but a high-class hostage. A father turns a stony face to his sons, berates them, shakes his antlers, paws the ground, snorts, runs them off into the underbrush, but when his daughter puts her arm over his shoulder and says, 'Daddy, I need to ask you something,' he is a pat of butter in a hot frying pan." -- Garrison Keillor
That quote is not accurate and applicable in this home. Tom turns to butter when any of his kids lay an arm across his shoulders. Dad was the Good Fairy, and Mom? I was reality, baby! I was the law, Dad was mercy. He loved being mercy and fun. His job took him away from home a good bit of the time, so his arrival meant baseball and cookouts and a long list of repairs to essential things that broke while he was away. He was a hero who could fix anything--a bike, an overdrawn checking account at college, a cell-phone or computer disaster. He still does and he still can. He's our McGyver.
It's hard being a hero with a shrinking following as his fans and admirers grow up and leave home to faraway adventures of their own. But like that old "Cat's in the Cradle" song, his boys are growing up to be a lot like him. And what better tribute is there to Father's Day than that?
But tomorrow is Father's Day, and our youngest son, Josh, who now lives in LA, is home for about 100 minutes, so we're trying to squeeze six months worth of loving into a millisecond, chatting his ears off, plying him with favorite foods--in this case crabs and steaks. (Pull out the wallet, this is going to ouch a bit.)
But what a delight that his arrival home to attend a friend's wedding coincided with Father's Day? Amanda, our only daughter, lives nearby with her growing family, and they do their best to keep us entertained, but having one of our sons come home on this weekend is the best present Tom and, for that matter, Amanda can have, as they tag-team to make this weekend special.
As to fathers, I caught this quote this morning:
"The father of a daughter is nothing but a high-class hostage. A father turns a stony face to his sons, berates them, shakes his antlers, paws the ground, snorts, runs them off into the underbrush, but when his daughter puts her arm over his shoulder and says, 'Daddy, I need to ask you something,' he is a pat of butter in a hot frying pan." -- Garrison Keillor
That quote is not accurate and applicable in this home. Tom turns to butter when any of his kids lay an arm across his shoulders. Dad was the Good Fairy, and Mom? I was reality, baby! I was the law, Dad was mercy. He loved being mercy and fun. His job took him away from home a good bit of the time, so his arrival meant baseball and cookouts and a long list of repairs to essential things that broke while he was away. He was a hero who could fix anything--a bike, an overdrawn checking account at college, a cell-phone or computer disaster. He still does and he still can. He's our McGyver.
It's hard being a hero with a shrinking following as his fans and admirers grow up and leave home to faraway adventures of their own. But like that old "Cat's in the Cradle" song, his boys are growing up to be a lot like him. And what better tribute is there to Father's Day than that?
In honor of Father's Day I'll host a one-day contest. Tell me something wonderful about your dad or father, and I'll enter you to win a copy of "Dawn's Early Light." I'll draw the winner tonight and send an email you can tuck into your Father's DAy Card. Post yout comment below. Ready, set, brag!
My father is a hero in many ways but he's shown me by his example that heroics are not something you brag about. That you do for others as you'd have them do for you. He was awarded a few medals for his service during Vietnam and yet he never told anyone about them, until Mom helped him unpack his suitcase and found them at the bottom of the bag. He did some dangerous things that saved several lives but he never talked about it. He never bragged. He just believes he was doing what anyone else would have done in his place. (I do not know if everyone would have followed the same course of action, as it takes courage to face down fear and do things that could potentially lead to your end).
ReplyDeleteI'm very proud of my Dad. Proud of his courage. Proud that he's stuck by his family during the hard times. Proud that he relates well to his adult children (He gives us the space to make our own decisions, tries to support us in those decisions, and then is still there to offer counsel and guidance if we ask for it).
That's a lot of rambling on my part. Bottom Line: I love my Daddy. And I'm thankful for the sacrifices he has made for his family (even if I couldn't see some of those sacrifices until I, myself, became an adult).
I love your contests :o) My dad.... one of my most special memories was my senior year, and our ward (Jefferson) girls basketball team had made it to regionals (back in the day when basketball was really huge at church). Dad had a business trip to California the same weekend as the final game (against Potomac). A little background...I started playing basketball when I was 12, my dad, never missed a game in 6 years of me playing church ball. This game was huge. I was sad he wasn't going to be able to be there.
ReplyDeleteThe morning of the game, I walked out of my bedroom, to see my dad running from the bathroom to his bedroom. He flew home in the middle of the night, just to be there for the game! How special I felt, how tired he must have been (California to Maryland), yet the sacrifice has never been forgotten.
The best part - Dad and entire family there for the game, and....we beat Potomac Ward!!!
My father passed several years ago. He was in an assisted living center shortly before his death. As we were walking down the hall, another resident grabbed my arm and asked if I was Joe's daughter. I replied that I was one of them. He told me how he was very depressed after the death of his wife, and then pulled up his sleeve to show me the numbers tatooed on his arm. After he learned my father had liberated concentration camps after WWII, he was able to force himself to spend time with the other residents. He was so excited to be able to thank an American GI, even though my father hadn't liberated his camp. I didn't even know my father had done this. He was too traumatized by what he saw to tell his children about it. A true hero.
ReplyDeleteMy dad was known for his honesty. When I was a teen I can remember overhearing him talking to a potential business partner. The guy was saying they were sure to make a pile of money and it was all legal. My dad replied, "It may be legal, but it isn't ethical and I can't be a part of it." That really impressed me and I thought of it often when I had to make decisions. He passed away 10 years ago next month at the age of 86. Love him, miss him. ¨´`'*°♥☆
ReplyDeleteThese are beautiful tributes, ladies. Thank you. It's wonderful to be reminded of all these wonderful men and the exceptional things they've done.
ReplyDelete