Happy Fathers Day, Pop.

The day you become a Father is the day you truly give your life away.  You probably thought that’s what happened when you met the mother of your child.  I bet you were pretty certain that’s what was going on when you stood before some kind of official and he/she read the words that made you man and wife.  Not so.

Having a child is THE most life changing event for anyone…becoming a Father gives you the opportunity to become a man.  I know that because that’s the kind of father I had.

My Mom has told me how excited she and Dad were to be having a child; as it turned out their only child.  Dad shared the experience with her by having morning sickness every day on the way to work.  He nearly wore a path in the tile of the waiting room while she was in labor; taking his two girls home from the hospital was the high point of his life.

I’m sure he was the typical 50’s and 60’s Dad.  He worked, came home to the evening meal, then read the paper and watched black and white TV.  It wasn’t glamorous, but it was constant and dependable.  Dad wasn’t the disciplinarian; in the team of good cop/bad cop he never was the villain.

When I was little, Daddy sat through many tea parties, ate tiny cakes from the Easy Bake Oven and patched my big doll named Freddie so the stuffing didn’t tumble out on the ground.    On Friday nights he stopped at Coney Island for a bag of hot dogs; the closest we came to eating out.  Once when I was sick he surprised me with a beautifully costumed Martha Washington doll I had spotted in a store.  Years later I understood it was something we could ill afford because he was working two jobs to make ends meet while Westinghouse was on strike.

When I was six I somehow contracted Scarlet Fever; a serious thing in those days.  Mom and I were quarantined for two weeks, Dad would stand outside the door to talk to us and leave groceries.  When the quarantine was lifted I was still too sick to go outside to play.  I remember my Dad carrying me into the hospital; I spent two more weeks recovering from the complications of Scarlet Fever.  My Mom stayed in my hospital room, and every minute he wasn’t at work my Dad was there, too.

You can do without a lot of material things and still have a happy childhood.  I wasn’t introduced to the symphony or the arts, and ours was not a bookish home.   I did not have a childhood of financial privilege; but I was loved and cared for.  My parents did the best they could…and that was good enough to make me strong and grateful.

As the years passed Dad was there to walk me down the aisle to give me away to a man who is very much like him in a lot of ways.  He enjoyed his grandchildren, often walking them around the block like a row of ducklings following along behind.   He helped with our moves from house to house, and he and Mom were great pinch hitters in our parenting line up.   

Having a Dad that loves you is one of life’s greatest assets.    His job from the day I was born was to make my life good; at least that was his interpretation.  He was embarrassingly proud of me; I was Daddy’s girl.   I hope I repaid a small part of that in the last years of his life when he was unable to do things for himself.   It was a privilege to give back what I could.

My father was a good man, and I think of him every day.   Happy Father’s Day, Pop.  I love you.

                                                                    Life is Good