Just Like My Dad

Happy Father’s Day to all of you who are dads, and to your dads.

And heavenly best wishes for dads like mine, who’s had the best seat in the house for 18 years now.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him, miss him, wish I could talk with him. Listen to him.

I think about all the days that I let go by, and could have, and didn’t.

I wish I could say I was just like my dad, but I wouldn’t measure up. Still, the more I think about it, the more I realize that he trained me pretty well!

He was all of 39 when I was born, just as I was when my daughter made her entrance.

There are other, random things I find myself doing just like him:

  • the same lawn-mowing and leaf-raking “pattern” (if you know, you know)
  • check all doors and windows at night before bed
  • hand-polish and wax leather shoes to make them last and look sharp
  • worry about the world we are leaving our kids

My dad never could get over me daily talking into a microphone on the radio—he was a quiet man and he listened. But, he was very opinionated, in his own way.

For decades, he wrote passionate letters to public figures on the issues of the day, from the Vietnam War to drugs, from taxes to television, from faith to corruption—and kept the letters, and the responses he received, in big 3-ring binders.

That was his “show”, and he worked diligently at it. Long-hand rough-drafts, then two-finger typed out.

He also wrote published letters to the editor of various newspapers, to the point where people would ask me if I was related to “that guy” who wrote such powerful letters?

You bet I am.


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