It always seemed to me that dads are not praised enough. Can you imagine a world without dads? There would be no mom, dad, us, no world.
My own Dad, the eldest of 15 children, grew up during the troubled times of Word War I and married during the Depression. A man who passed down the genes to me of an excellent memory and the love of rising early.
A dad who instilled, “If you can get along without it, you don’t need it. If you can fix it, no need to buy a new one.”
Dad was a man who had difficulty showing affection, but I knew he cared. His hands were gentle when it was time for him to pull a loose baby tooth. He held my hand as we walked the road to go watch the blacksmith shoe horses or went up to the store summer nights after work, with the wheelbarrow, for ice for our wooden ice box.
Dad has been gone many years, but from time to time, very early morning, I sense for just a few moments that perhaps if I dialed the old number he would be at the end of the line.
“Pop,” my father-in law, treated his four daughters-in-law as his own. He was always there for us. As years went by, he would sit in his rocking chair smoking his pipe. He was a good listener, but only offered advice if you asked. One of my father-in-law’s virtues was that he could make a person feel better about himself. Another was his patience.
Time and again I have heard my husband say he does not recall ever receiving a “licking.” “Pop” would tap his foot and say “That’s enough, children.” I recall the times when I was impatient with his grandchildren, he would, say “Now, they are just children.”
That “virtue” was passed on to his son. Perhaps twice in their lifetime have I heard their Dad raise his voice. Each of them got a spanking — once, from their Dad that is. From time to time to time one will mention the spanking. Dad would smile and say, “I guess you must have had it coming.”
Fathers are wonderful in a million different ways. They merit loving compliments every day.
Happy Father’s Day, to new dads, old dads, granddads, and all dads who have gone on before, we miss you.
Evelyn A. Potter is a resident of Kents Hill.
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