Father’s Day

My dad…where on earth do I begin with this entry? I think I will preface this entry with a statement that my dad was certainly not perfect.  I did not agree with everything he said and did, but he was my dad.  I have, and always will love him.   My dad was one seriously unique individual.  He grew up in a house with four sisters and two brothers.  My grandparents were not ones to mess with their children misbehaving so failure to follow the rules was not tolerated. They loved their kids, worked hard, and provided for them to the best of their ability.  Only one of their children actually finished high school and the others achieved their GED.  My dad went into the military, returned home, married my mom, and began working.  He roofed houses, laid brick, and finally was hired by Safeway as a warehouse worker.   The hours were long, the work was back breaking, but all he cared about was making the money he needed to support his girls. 

My dad wanted a son.  Three daughters, a poodle named Suzi, and a bird named Bert that laid an egg later, my dad decided that a son was just not in the cards, nor was anything male going to reside in his house.  Being the oldest of the three, I was the daughter that received the honor of honorary son.  My dad taught me how to change the oil in my car, change a tire, mow the lawn, and a variety of other technical details to help a single girl out.  He needed a buddy to impart all of his manly wisdom and the job fell to me.  Anyone who knows me would actually laugh out loud.  I hate to sweat and get dirty.  I never had any intention of being the son my father never had, but I learned a lot.

Dad would not have had it any other way.  What Dad said we did.  My dad was the absolute in control freaks.  He would tell us in no uncertain terms that he was the boss and we better not cross him.  The only person who ever did was my sister, Patty.  Karen and I quaked in our boots for her.  He got past her show of bravado, but not before the rest of us had a nervous breakdown.  Like his father, my dad demanded respect.  He wasn’t one of those parents who felt that respect needed to be given in order to earn it.  It was his because his actions showed the rest of the world that he deserved our respect. We never went without. My dad took care of his family, loved them dearly, and protected what was his.

While I tell you that my dad was a control freak, it is with great understanding and respect that  I make that statement.  He took the job of being our dad very seriously.  He always knew where we were, who we were with, and when we would be home.  If we told him that we were going to a movie, he would show up to see if we where there.  On more than one occasion, I would recognize my dad’s laughter three or four rows behind me at a show.  We never spent the night at a friend’s house.  Only once during my teen years did I show up wasted after being out with a friend.  Thank God for my mom or I would not be writing this.  She covered for me and promptly told me that it was the first and last time it would happen.  If my dad said to be home by midnight, I was there with five minutes to spare.  Trust was earned with Dad and not freely given.  He never wanted anything to happen to his girls, and while it seemed controlling to us at the time, it was for our protection. 

When we were young and tried to play the parents against each other, my dad would tell us, "Your mom comes first, and you girls are second.  Don’t try to play us against each other.  You will marry someday, leave my home, and have a first in your life. You mom is mine and that is how it is."  He loved her first and foremost.  They stood back to back and never allowed anyone to come between them.  They fussed, argued, and made up just like all couples do.  The word divorce never was part of our vocabulary growing up.  My dad set the bar for commitment and set it high.  I will never forget him standing at the back of the little country church where Mike and I were married telling me, "Are you sure you want to do this?  Say the word and we will call it right here, right now.  If you do it, it is until death do you part."  When I said let’s go, he marched me down the aisle and when the preacher said, "Who gives this woman?" He proudly replied, "Her mother and I."  

Thirty-one years later, my husband and I stand back to back having never allowed anyone to come between us.  Thank you Dad for setting the example that I have followed.  Thank you for never allowing us to speak to you in a disrespectful manner.  Thank you for taking us to church and introducing us to God when we would have rather slept late. Thank you for never compromising your position and for being the firm but loving leader in our family.  Thank you for loving your grandchildren unconditionally and holding them to the same standard that you held us.  

I could write a book about being a dad just based on the man my father was. Father’s Day always brings me back to Dad.  I am very proud of my dad and miss him every day.  Happy Father’s Day Dad!  You’re the best!

Lora