MY FATHER'S DAY TRIBUTE




This is my daddy opening a Christmas gift I bought him. After he retired he took over the cooking and his specialty was vegetable soup….don’t ask me why…..oh, he took over the cooking because my mother wasn’t any better a cook than I am.

My father died over fifteen years ago and I can still hear his laughter, see his smile. He was the man by which I judged all other men – and very few even came close. He was not a wealthy man, not an imposing looking man, not an important man in the eyes of the world. But he was the world to the women in his life, and his daughter adored him. I am his legacy. All that I am, he shaped. All my values were his, as are his personality, his assets and his faults, even his interests are still mine.

When he died, suddenly of a heart attack, I handled his funeral, and wrote his eulogy. This is my testament to him. I believe a man should be eulogized by one who knew him well – someone who loved him – and I loved him most of all. His passing from this earth should be noted by more than a short paragraph of facts in the middle of a newspaper obituary column.

My dad was a man of character. He was a man of strong moral fiber. You knew where he stood and where you stood with him. He always spoke his mind, regardless of who might be hurt, including himself. This was an asset or a fault – I always admired it in him but Mother always said he could think whatever he wanted, he didn’t have to say it out loud.

I always felt a little sorry for my father – always surrounded by women – his mother and two sisters as a boy – his wife and daughter as a man. And hard women, too. The women in his life, either born or married, were and are rock-hard, all of them – including me, his only child. Undoubtedly, we alll helped shape his character. He was always a gentleman among women, but he had to be tough to survive. Maybe that’s why he learned the fine art of argument.

My, how that man loved to argue! His friends were also men who loved to argue. I have listened to him spend a whole evening in loud disagreement (not a debate, no one ever changed his mind). I’d wonder how they could remain friends after that. But, you know, he never downgraded another man behind his back after those arguments. He respected a man’s right to his opinion and respected any man or woman who had the guts to voice those opinions. I finally decided that arguing was a source of entertainment to both of them.

He was not a joiner. The only memberships he ever held were his church and his union. He remained a union man long after his retirement. Of course, this was a fine topic for arguments, as was politics – a Democrat to the end. He even admitted he was a “yellow dog Democrat” – with pride, I might add.

He didn’t argue about religion. His faith was a fact and not arguable. He was a true believer in saving grace. I walked by their bedroom every night on my way to get ready for bed, and I would see him on his knees every night. I never heard a word. He was not a demonstrative man, even in private. It was between him and his God.

He had no hobbies, unless you count swinging. Many an evening he and I would spend swinging on the patio or deck, talking, sometimes arguing, gazing up at the stars. We were very curious about those stars. We were avid science fiction fans and had all kinds of speculations about distant galaxies. Or sometimes we were quiet, just swinging back and forth, lost in their beauty and mystery.

What more can you say about a man than to say you were proud of him. His wife was proud to sit beside him every Sunday in that same church pew. His daughter was proud to have him walk her down the aisle. His grandchildren were proud to have their friends also call him grandpa.

I was also proud to print Shakespeare’s soliloquy from Romeo and Juliette in his funeral program. It could have been written for him. Who knows, maybe it was.

“When he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars
And he shall make the face of heaven so fine
That all the Earth shall be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun…”

And now you know why I love stars.





Kansas City - Daddy hadn't been back from WWII too long when this was taken.





I was always holding Daddy's hand when i had the chance....and i seem to be edging away from Mother......hmmmmmmmm





We look so serious here. Of course, without my glasses, i always looked like i was a little worried about something.





It’s just me, geni