To my dad on Father's Day

I've had a couple of father figures in my life, but only one real dad, that's you.
We've had our share of good, bad, and lukewarm moments over the years, haven't we? I've been at times a deeply flawed daughter, and perhaps you have your regrets as well, but that doesn't matter. It also doesn't matter that we don't share the same last name or genetic make-up. Because we are connected for life, you and I, by something even stronger - a bond that began roughly 32 years ago when you stepped into my life, held me, played with me, and became my dad.

We had our fun over the years as I grew up. I recall you taking us to drive-in movies, and carrying me when I lost my battle to stay awake. I remember riding on the back of your Harley, my pudgy little arms hanging on to you for dear life. I remember you and Grampa Vern taking me along on your early morning fishing trips because I begged and pleaded to go, then enduring my whining when I got bored after 5 minutes out on the lake. When I was a little older you took us in the RV to Tennessee and I remember riding the motorcycles up to the highest point in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Then on the way back down we coasted silently through the mountain mist with the engines off, amongst a thick forest of the biggest Pines and Evergreens I'd ever seen. When I graduated from high school I remember you throwing me a party in the back yard of your house on the river and teaming with my grandparents to buy me a graduation gift - a computer for college. These are just a few in a big collection of fond memories I hang on to.

Now that I'm grown I see our residual bond as something like an invisible fishing line strung between my heart and yours; and whether I'm 50 miles away or 1,500 I still feel its tug. Although I get lost and drift far off, I'll always find my way back sooner or later, knowing you'll be there to greet me with a hug. You've always been and continue to be a source of quiet strength for me, an anchor that keeps me grounded, and I'm grateful for that. Being the tough guy you are I'm sure you hate all this sappy stuff, but this is just my own way of saying I love you, Dad. Happy Father's Day.



P.S. Nice bell-bottoms! But don't worry, trust me, no one ever reads my blog.