Sunday, June 17, 2007
Happy Father's Day to all the fathers out there. I called mine to wish him a happy father's day earlier and to see what he got or if, and where, he was going out to eat. He said he got some shirts and a "nice weed eater" but doesn't know how to use it. True, he may not be the most mechanically inclined but I think he's funny. A retired Navy and Air Force guy who used to work in construction, went to night school while working a full time job, raised a family, and managed warehouses of various types and he thinks he can't tackle a weed eater. He never gives himself enough credit, and I suppose that's half of his appeal. Just a humble man. A man who's always been, and still is, my hero. I still remember all the special times we shared, even more so on days like this. Hanging out with him at the golf course just to be near him. I'd drive the cart. Or playing catch in the backyard when I played girls softball. Watching him bowl in a league. Sitting outside with him while he perfected the grill on weekends. Going out to eat lunch together. Simple things that meant a lot to me. And I hope they did for him, too. I'll always be a daddy's girl.
We all remember those papers we wrote in school about what we wanted to be when we grew up. During a visit to see my parents one time, I got a hold of the one my dad had written in high school, and started to read it with no doubt there'd be something great within it. He wrote that he wanted to be a sports writer. While he never accomplished this--yelling and cussing at refs at various sporting events was about as close as he got--I was so proud that he had ambition. I asked him then why he didn't do it. He just shrugged and said something like, "Oh, I don't know." Maybe it just wasn't something he wanted bad enough. I don't know either. But I think I get my ambition and drive from him, at least somewhat. The only difference is I want the writing bad enough.
Thanks to my dad for all the life lessons, even when he thought I wasn't paying attention.