What makes a good Dad?
What makes a good Dad? Some might think he has to have a lot of money or some fancy job. Or they think he has to be a well known, important community figure. I feel sorry for these people, for they throw away a wonderful gift. I think I have an idea of what makes a good Dad, because I have a GREAT Dad.
Dad in the Army in 1960 when he was 18
My Dad just retired after working 40 years at the same lumber mill. He started out, as he calls it, "pushing broom" -- basically the clean-up crew. After he got married and a few kids came along, he knew he needed a better income, so he went to school and got his Associates Degree and his Electrical Licence. This was a real challenge for someone with dyslexia and who could hardly read when he graduated High School -- yet he persevered. After a few years of apprenticeship, he was a full fledge Electrician.
When I was growing up Dad worked all the overtime he could in efforts to support his growing family. Yet, I have countless memories of him being around. He attended all our school programs and all our home games. He took us camping and to the beach. He was there and he took time to spend with his children: watching movies, playing games, puzzles. Dad has always been a simple man. He didn't buy any fancy cars or trucks or boats. His money and time went into raising his family. He sacrificed a lot for us.
I admire him for all he did, and still does for me. I appreciate all his sacrifices. But there is one other sacrifice he made for his children that earns him an even greater place in my heart. It's something I am not sure I could do.
When I was 16 my Grandpa (Dad's Dad) died. I have a lot of fond memories of him. Grandpa was blind when I was born so he spend a lot of time sitting in one place. I could go over and curl up next to him. He would put his arms around me and ask me about my day and listen patiently as I would go on and on. I could sit for hours and just snuggle against his soft warm flesh.
My sister and I spent many nights at my grandparents home. We would wait until Grandpa would go into the old dinning room where he had his record player and rocking chair. My sister and I would both climb up onto his massive lap and for hours we would all listen to Patty Page records.
Grandpa spent a lot time in and out of the hospital. He was in sever pain before he died and when his autopsy was done it was discovered that he had advanced stomach cancer. I was told he used tobacco a lot. Funny thing, I never saw him smoke or chew, but was told he did so in his younger years. I was to find out later that he did a lot of things in his younger years.
My Grandpa was very abusive when my Dad was growing up. Dad says he was a tyrant. He would fly into a rage over the smallest things. He refused to allow my Grandmother to attend church because supper would not be on the table in time. In contrast, the grandfather I knew was a very devoutly religious man. I have seen picture of my Dad as a young boy and my eyes fill with tears as I look at this frightened, abused, innocent child.
My Dad never spoke about his childhood while his Father was alive. Even now he says very little unless I ask him. The abusive was a part of it and it is hard to speak of one with out mentioning the other. Despite what he endured, my Dad saw that his father had changed and always encouraged a relationship between his children and his Father. He set aside his anger and sadness so we might get the love, gentleness and kindness he never got from that man.
This is the thing I most admire about my Dad, his ability to forgive his Father for the sake of his children. He put his children's needs first whenever he was able. And THAT is what makes a GREAT Dad.
Happy Father's Dad! I love you.
Dad and Me in 1973
Other Pics of my Dad
Dad in the Army in 1960 when he was 18
My Dad just retired after working 40 years at the same lumber mill. He started out, as he calls it, "pushing broom" -- basically the clean-up crew. After he got married and a few kids came along, he knew he needed a better income, so he went to school and got his Associates Degree and his Electrical Licence. This was a real challenge for someone with dyslexia and who could hardly read when he graduated High School -- yet he persevered. After a few years of apprenticeship, he was a full fledge Electrician.
When I was growing up Dad worked all the overtime he could in efforts to support his growing family. Yet, I have countless memories of him being around. He attended all our school programs and all our home games. He took us camping and to the beach. He was there and he took time to spend with his children: watching movies, playing games, puzzles. Dad has always been a simple man. He didn't buy any fancy cars or trucks or boats. His money and time went into raising his family. He sacrificed a lot for us.
I admire him for all he did, and still does for me. I appreciate all his sacrifices. But there is one other sacrifice he made for his children that earns him an even greater place in my heart. It's something I am not sure I could do.
When I was 16 my Grandpa (Dad's Dad) died. I have a lot of fond memories of him. Grandpa was blind when I was born so he spend a lot of time sitting in one place. I could go over and curl up next to him. He would put his arms around me and ask me about my day and listen patiently as I would go on and on. I could sit for hours and just snuggle against his soft warm flesh.
My sister and I spent many nights at my grandparents home. We would wait until Grandpa would go into the old dinning room where he had his record player and rocking chair. My sister and I would both climb up onto his massive lap and for hours we would all listen to Patty Page records.
Grandpa spent a lot time in and out of the hospital. He was in sever pain before he died and when his autopsy was done it was discovered that he had advanced stomach cancer. I was told he used tobacco a lot. Funny thing, I never saw him smoke or chew, but was told he did so in his younger years. I was to find out later that he did a lot of things in his younger years.
My Grandpa was very abusive when my Dad was growing up. Dad says he was a tyrant. He would fly into a rage over the smallest things. He refused to allow my Grandmother to attend church because supper would not be on the table in time. In contrast, the grandfather I knew was a very devoutly religious man. I have seen picture of my Dad as a young boy and my eyes fill with tears as I look at this frightened, abused, innocent child.
My Dad never spoke about his childhood while his Father was alive. Even now he says very little unless I ask him. The abusive was a part of it and it is hard to speak of one with out mentioning the other. Despite what he endured, my Dad saw that his father had changed and always encouraged a relationship between his children and his Father. He set aside his anger and sadness so we might get the love, gentleness and kindness he never got from that man.
This is the thing I most admire about my Dad, his ability to forgive his Father for the sake of his children. He put his children's needs first whenever he was able. And THAT is what makes a GREAT Dad.
Happy Father's Dad! I love you.
Dad and Me in 1973
Other Pics of my Dad