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June 18, 2006
Abba is not a Swedish Singing Group
My dad became at dad at 21 but he took to it as if he'd been doing it for eons. I'm not saying he was perfect. But he has been a darned good dad for, well, about 50 years (we don't need to get overly specific here.). A few of the points that earn him the good dad award:
He let me check any book out of the library when I was a kid, even when I didn't understand one blessed word.
He beat me at chess. Until I learned to beat him.
He opened his heart to each and every one of my friends.
He drove me to church when he didn't go himself.
He adored (and still adores) my mother.
He baited me in debates at the dinner table so I could learn to adequately defend my point of view.
He was always there for us kids, even when I'm sure he wanted to walk away.
He takes an interest in nearly everyone he meets.
I remember, as a kid, that my dad would often volunteer to run to the grocery store. Even if Mom only needed one thing on the list, he would be gone for hours. It wasn't that he was trying to get away from the 5 of us (okay; maybe he was). No; this was his chance to read. There, for free, in the grocery store, he could read the latest Louis A'mour or Ross MacDonald or whoever. And, because he was a fast reader, he could finish those books in one sitting. And close them back up, put them on the shelf, grab the milk and head home. From my dad, I learned that reading was a delight, a pleasure, a treat. That you could squeeze it in even if you had four little kids and no real prospects. There was always a new book, no matter what else had happened that day or that week.
So, I thank you, Dad. For the love and support and the bad jokes. But mostly for guiding me to the world of words.
Posted by kirby at June 18, 2006 07:26 PM
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