Thanks Dad

Thanks Dad. Thanks for never taking a day off work. Thanks for making me proud of our last name. Thanks for the road trips. Thanks for teaching me how to play shortstop. Thanks for being so critical of my driving. Thanks for letting me ride on the back of your motorcycle and thanks for teaching me how to ride my own motorcycle. Thanks for taking me to work with you on ‘Take your Child to work day.” Thanks for the many lectures of clouds types and evaporation. Thanks for saying, “You look beautiful” on the night you escorted me for homecoming court. Thanks for loving my mom.

While at work recently, I met with a child and asked all sorts of questions about his home life, school life, and listened while this bright young man talked. My meetings with young children always end with me saying, “I’ve asked you a lot of questions and listened to everything you wanted to say, now do you have any questions that you would like to ask me?” Usually the kids say “no” and the meeting ends shortly after, however this young man answered “Yes.” He asked me a question that tugged on my heartstrings and has left me consumed with the thought of how lucky I have been throughout my entire life. He asked, “Did you grow up with a Dad in your house?” Of course, my rules during these meetings with children are that we can only talk about the truth, so I answered honestly, “Yes, I did.” And then, while looking down at his shoes, he asked, “Was it fun?” Again, I answered, “Yes, it was.” And the meeting was ended. Just two simple questions from a 9 year old and my thoughts have been consumed by those few simple words. He was one of those children that was smart enough to know what he had missed out on, and even smarter to not dig deeper about what he has missed.

The questions made me want to go hug my dad, however we’re not what you would call a “huggy” family. The questions also made me think about how many children grow up without a father in their homes, and how many children grow up without ever speaking to their father. It seems that my “normal” of being raised in a family with two parents who were married to each other and two older brothers who watched out for me, and a family that still loves each one another is not so normal anymore.

So, Dad, thanks for “normal.” Thanks for mowing my lawn every week. Thanks for buying me a crappy little S-10 that I fell in love with when I was 16. Thanks for rescuing me every time I run out of gas. Thanks for buying me pot-bellied pigs when I was in third grade. Thanks for taking such good care of your parents in their old age. Thanks for being such a good Grandpa to my kids. Thanks for bonding with my husband over a beer, nap, and baseball game in your living room every Sunday. Thanks for being my Dad.

Supervising wood cutting
Spring 2013