If you’ve been with me for several months now, you may have noticed that I refer to my Mum and both grandmothers from time to time. These ladies were a loving influence on me as I was growing up.
It occurs to me, though, that I haven’t mentioned the men who were also there during those years. I’d like to correct that and begin with my father.
My Dad is the epitome of what Tom Brokaw described as The Greatest Generation. He has spent his life “doing the right thing” – as a young boy with a mother who was ill, as a teenager serving his country during a war, as a young husband holding a job by day and studying for a college degree by night, as the father of six children who worked hard to make a good life for them, as a grandfather who is proud of his grandchildren and who has been married to their grandmother for 58 years – all of this and so much more.
I could tell you many stories . . . like the time he swooped in and saved me from a crabby nun when I was 6 years old, or the evenings he spent at the kitchen table helping me with algebra, or how he sang “Daddy’s Little Girl” to me at my wedding, or that he bought and installed a decorative window for my home as a gift on my 25th wedding anniversary. The list goes on and on.
I hope you’ll indulge me today, Dear Bloggers, as I dedicate this post to a very special father.
I love you a million trillion.