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It’s really hard to put into words the way that I feel about my dad…

Remembering back to my days as a little girl, a flood of (very) random images sweep through my mind like a “daddy/daughter” video of memories…   My dad was my “yes man”.  He was the one you asked “to do something”.  Anything.  “Can I walk to my friend’s house in a neighboring state… after dark… in the snow?  Barefoot?”  “As long as it’s OK with your mom”.  I assured him that it was. (Sorry, Mom)  When we moved after fifth grade, I was anxiously preparing for my sixth grade year at a brand new school.  It was a good change for me, and I was excited.  Got my ears pierced and my mom got me a pair of powder blue “cameo” earrings.  (A real trend setter I was back then!)  It was 1972 and everyone had long straight hair and feathered bangs.  Including me.  That is, until I got my hair cut in a “shag”.  Tears.  Tears.  More tears…  I walked in the door, eyes red and puffy from sobbing.  My dad looked at me and said nothing.  He didn’t even blink.  Just smiled and went back to reading the paper.   Didn’t even notice… or just unconditional love?  I dunno.  Doesn’t matter really.  As the oldest of seven kids, there really wasn’t a lot of “one-on-one” time.  Because of that however, the memories are treasured even more….  Following my dad through “Central Hardware” (a small 60’s/70’s hardware store) and getting “Boston Baked Beans” out of the candy vending machine by the door (refer back to the whole “Yes man” thingie…) or having strawberry crepes at the “Village Inn Pancake House”, just the two of us, on my way back to college. Sometimes my dad took on the role of “Superman”.  He knew exactly how to cut my eggs into little “roofs”.  The only way that I would eat them, apparently.   He quite possibly saved my life in a jeep accident when I was just three years old, and then saved me, once again, after the first semester of my freshman year in college.  I had gotten very sick that fall and wasn’t sure that I could continue on with my second semester.  My dad, not one to write letters really, wrote a heartfelt, encouraging love letter to me that gave me the inner strength to say – “Yes, I can!”…and I did.  (I still have that letter)

My dad is a humble man and one of the hardest workers that I have ever known.  He is a quiet, honest, patient, unassuming, gentle man with a big, strong, kind hug that I can feel in my heart when I close my eyes.   Even when we are seperated by many, many miles… as we are today.

I love my dad more than any girl could ever love her dad.  Today, I just wanted to be sure that he knows that.  Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

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