Happy Father's Day



My father with his dad in 1949

I love this picture. Not only does this two-year old look very much like my own sons, but it also reminds me of a happy time my father shared with his own father. My dad has told me stories about helping his father fix the family car and how his father drove a bus in the Kansas City area. But that is where the stories end. When my dad was eight his parents got a divorce and for all intensive purposes his father was never a part of his life again. In fact, I never met my grandfather until his funeral. What a surreal day that was.

Fast forward to my relationship with my dad. He has always been there for me through the pom-pom parades, choir concerts, and the myriad of totaled cars. My dad has always had an answer for my car or military questions. He was so helpful that when I asked for help changing a tire in high school (fully expecting him to do it) he drove to the school and made me do it myself. I owe my sense of direction to my father forcing me to name street names and directions as we took family drives through downtown Kansas City. I owe the fact that I didn't stick with many a bum to his "cleaning his gun" speech to sketchy boyfriends. Actually, I owe my father a lot. A lot more than could ever be written in one small blog post.

So, lift a beer to the best father and friend a girl could have. Love you, dad.