my Dad
[email protected]
Okay. I can't let this subject pass by without saying something. My Dad
died 20 years ago on Thanksgiving day. He was the best father in the world.
He had five children, worked full time, yet found time to have an individual
relationship with each of us. He was a very good artist, constantly drawing
our "requests" from cartoon characters to real looking people and animals.
Sadly, I don't have one single example. I guess I thought he'd be here
drawing for me forever. He also liked to make up silly songs and poems, and
some of these I still remember. I remember sitting on his lap as he
patiently taught me to tie flies (for fly fishing). We'd take long walks in
the woods and spend quiet afternoons fishing. He'd read to us at night and
point out the reindeer tracks on the roof. He'd take me to work and show me
how the lin-o-type presses operated and was proud that I could read upside
down and backwards, too. He apologized when he was wrong. He was my taxi
service until I was old enough to get my own car, which he helped me pick
out. He loved my kids for the few short years he knew them. He never met my
youngest, his namesake. Just a few years ago my sisters and I were
reminiscing, and I told my secret: I always felt that I was his favorite.
They admitted that each of them thought that THEY were his favorite. I think
that it's remarkable that he could enjoy each of his children so much, and
lovingly show that, so that without the words, we still each believed we were
his favorite. I try to be the best mother I can, because I had the best
father.
Mary J
died 20 years ago on Thanksgiving day. He was the best father in the world.
He had five children, worked full time, yet found time to have an individual
relationship with each of us. He was a very good artist, constantly drawing
our "requests" from cartoon characters to real looking people and animals.
Sadly, I don't have one single example. I guess I thought he'd be here
drawing for me forever. He also liked to make up silly songs and poems, and
some of these I still remember. I remember sitting on his lap as he
patiently taught me to tie flies (for fly fishing). We'd take long walks in
the woods and spend quiet afternoons fishing. He'd read to us at night and
point out the reindeer tracks on the roof. He'd take me to work and show me
how the lin-o-type presses operated and was proud that I could read upside
down and backwards, too. He apologized when he was wrong. He was my taxi
service until I was old enough to get my own car, which he helped me pick
out. He loved my kids for the few short years he knew them. He never met my
youngest, his namesake. Just a few years ago my sisters and I were
reminiscing, and I told my secret: I always felt that I was his favorite.
They admitted that each of them thought that THEY were his favorite. I think
that it's remarkable that he could enjoy each of his children so much, and
lovingly show that, so that without the words, we still each believed we were
his favorite. I try to be the best mother I can, because I had the best
father.
Mary J