My Dad, When I Was Young:
I always knew Dad loved me, and us.
I always knew he tried hard, and his best.
The transitions of life were difficult. Hard at times.
I can only imagine those major moves in life.
Young, born in 1929, or ’30.
One of nine. Middle Child. Sharecropper.
Air Force. Deployed. Married. Kids. Paper Mill.
He never told us it would be easy, but he wanted it better.
For my mom, his parents…and us.
He worked hard, and never seemed to goof off.
His work ethic was sweat, and I take that much from him every day!
Even his hair, or so they say!
But none of us has his voice. It is unique to him.
In me and my siblings, I see some of him, and some of mom.
But we are each unique in and of ourselves.
So, my thoughts are today about what each of us become as a result of such a team.
I have this memory of Deer Park, Texas
Afternoon nap, windows open (no A/C)…
Just 4 or 5…
I watch dad mow the back yard that was perhaps a little too high.
Back and forth in that little swath of ground.
Sweat. Sweat. Sweat.
Then I think of me, and how much I love mowing yards
And still, I enjoy today!
Often willing to handle the entire chore
and never feeling like I was being punished.
That Yazoo mower, you would just have to know, big wheels and red.
That other mower was slower
where you sat on the back single wheel
and steered from behind the behemoth blades in front.
That Ford tractor, possibly a 9N model with the brush hog on back.
I still want one today!
Then, I remember dad coming to our yard in Anchorage to Mow
I’m not sure I ever thanked him enough
So, now, I do.
Thank you, dad!
Perfect? None of us are.
Best? How can anyone claim this title?
Labels, and all they are meant to be,
Are only what each of us sees in the dads of our lives.
So, boast and proclaim, but take a hint
Be sure and love this man you call dad…
I know I do.
Happy Father’s Day!
2017… and again in 2019