What was your Dad like when you were a child?

What was your Dad like when you were a child?

Dec 30, 2021
Dad married Mom when I was 6. Even though it took me much longer than he would’ve liked for me to call him Dad, in my heart and soul the title was his. It was only my mind that needed extra time to stubbornly accept just how little blood has to do with love. And he loved me completely; there was no doubt of that.

Dad was hard-working. He devoted himself to his daily job regardless of how much he liked it or how well he was compensated. He and Mom were well-matched in this way. Their work ethic became a foundational thread for our family.

Dad was musical. We didn’t realize how fortunate we were to have a Dad who could instantly provide music, entertainment, and engagement. That is another way that he and Mom were well-matched. They could both sing beautifully, and enjoyed the simple act of singing with us.

Dad was mischievous. He’d often (even on holidays) answer the phone “Joe’s Bar-n-Grill, Joe speaking.” When I’d bring friends (and later, boyfriends) over, he’d almost always say or do something to yank their chain and follow it up with, “I’m just messing with you. But, hey, if you’re going to be here, you gotta be able to handle it.” His good-natured ribbing was fairly legendary in my circle of friends.

Dad was a tinkerer. He fixed up classic chevy cars (1955-57 nomads in particular), created beautiful wood projects (like the solid wood toy boxes Jackie and I both have), and worked on household projects like re-tiling our bathroom, putting up wallpaper (with Mom) in the dining and family rooms. He stayed busy! After working a full-time job during the week, he’d still put in hours for the home and garage projects. When not at home, he was out at a car show or flea market, which we went to with him frequently. And as often goes along with tinkerers, he was a hoarder. If we ever needed something, there was a good chance he had it - somewhere - if only he could find it!

Dad was sometimes brusque. He was opinionated and unforgiving and could be hard to be around if he was upset - with you or someone else. He would chase the Baptist visitors off our porch because of something that happened to his Uncle’s family at a Baptist church years ago. Those times were rare. Most of the time he was jovial and kind.

Dad was tough. He fell through a hole in the second story floor of our barn while he was building it and managed to hang on until he knew someone was coming to help. Even then, he fell in such a way that the damage was minimal.

Dad always let us know he loved us. I can practically hear his voice, “I love you. You know that?” The earnest tone of that simple question sunk in. Yes, Dad. I know. And Happy Birthday.