Today is Father’s Day. So, just for today, I decided to pay tribute to my own Dad, whose gentle nature, keen sense of humour and strong sense of fair play helped shape me. I offer it with a wish to all Fathers who celebrate this day to enjoy the day and know how much you are appreciated.
I was born three years after the end of WWII. It was a time when men and women were readjusting to peacetime. During the war, men were away in Europe or in the Pacific Region, fighting, and women, by necessity, were doing “men’s jobs” at home. When the men returned, things, somewhat painfully, snapped back to pre-war culture, (otherwise known as “normal“) with men typically avoiding all things domestic, including the raising of children.
In our house though, things were a little different. For as long as I can remember, at least until she retired, my mother worked outside the home. It was unusual, given the culture of the time, but for my mother and father it was a necessity and that was all there was to that. They were a team.
Of course when I was little, I didn’t know, understand or care about any of that. All I knew was that it was my daddy who put me to bed every night. It was he who gave me my bath and allowed me to splash water all over him in the process. It was my Dad who sang “Three Little Fishes” to me while I was being bathed. And it was he who ran up the stairs several times each night just to give me another kiss goodnight.
Later, it was also my Dad, (a person who did not like shopping), who drove me from one mall to the other when I needed cheering up. And, even when I was behaving badly or at odds with my parents, it was Dad who forgave me first. It was he who offered the first conciliatory hug and the reassurance that in spite of our differences, we would still be all right. He would still love me.
Now, many years later, I am so grateful that he was in my life. And, every now and then, I catch a glimpse of him in my son, Rob who is, himself, a fine Dad.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad…wherever you are. I remember you today and will, every day… even if I live to be a hundred.
We probably all have a “Dad Story” of some kind. What’s yours? Care to share?