Remembering Dad

I don't know about you, but whenever Father's Day comes around, it makes me stop and remember where and who I came from.

My dad was an only child, and he quit school at 13 because his dad died. My dad was always a working man, employed as a farm hand through my growing up years. What my dad lacked in formal education, he more than made up for in common sense and resourcefulness. An analogy that comes to mind is in the movie, "Apollo 13," the scene where the ground crew meets and says, these are the materials the astronauts have in space, and this is what they need to get done, how can they make it work? That was my dad -- doing the best you can with what you have to work with. We probably came under the heading of being poor, but not realizing it at the time. But, I don't remember us ever lacking for any of life's necessities. Sometimes, I remember my dad and I wish I was as handy as he was with tools and around vehicles. But, then, I realize that the quality of working around things that go wrong, and figuring out how to make things work is something that I did inherit.

My dad died of chronic bronchitis in 1991 at age 62. The last time I visited him in the hospital, we had one of those wide-ranging conversations, talking about everything and nothing. Now, understand, my dad was not a great conversationalist. There was no middle ground with day -- either he would start telling stories and talk your arm off, or would sit for long periods of time and not say a word. So, this kind of a chat was unusual for him. It's like he knew this would be our last talk. This was Saturday -- he died Monday.

Sometime this weekend, if your dad is still around, get with him and let him know in some way how you feel about him. If you're like me, this would a good time to remember your dad with a smile.

Happy Father's Day.