Today is the first day in my life that I can remember not being at home on Father’s Day-well, at least not on Father’s Day morning. Currently, I am visiting my aunt in a suburb of Madison with Clare and two of my other cousins. We are heading back home sometime this afternoon, after a weekend girly things like chocolate cream pie, the movie Pride and Prejudice, running 10ks….oh wait, that wasn’t so girly of me. But, this post isn’t about me. It’s about my dad.
My dad is wonderful, simply put, and as is the case with most fathers, he rarely gets to hear it. I don’t know what it is about fathers, but it is frankly a lot harder to tell one’s father, “I love you,” on a regular basis as compared to telling that to one’s mother. I wish I said it more often-not just on Father’s Day. From our previous posts, and even my dad’s post on this blog, you probably know that he is a man of many talents and interests. That is a very mild way of describing my father.
He is a tall man, solid and comforting as I know from years ago when I would curl up on his lap while he smoked a pipe, sending wafts of sweet tobacco scent around the room from his mouth in perfect smoke rings while my childish eyes watched in delighted amazement.
He is a brilliant writer, thinker, and the fastest reader I have ever seen. I’ve always been so proud to be able to tell my friends that my dad used to be a journalist. When I’ve had the pleasure of reading some of his past writings, I am always so impressed with his writing. He made every story a unique an interesting one, and I could read his article for hours. He is by far the best writer of us all.
He is a man of the land, heading out to the fields at 6 in the morning whistling cheerfully, with a hoe in hand. He works in the fields from morning to evening because of the joy it brings him, not just out of a sense of duty. He has infused his children with a true appreciation for wholesome, local, and just plain good food. A lesson pounded home in humorous ways such as the memorization of phrases like, “Feel good-eat garlic,” and, “Family farms yes-factory farms no!” by us younger children. And I love it.
My father is not a perfect man, and I am not a perfect daughter. But, I know that there is no other father in the world who could ever take his place or that I could love more. Together, we are the perfect fit. I love you, Dad. Thank you for all you are and all you’ve given me. Happy Father’s Day!