And if you forgot to get a card, please feel free to share a favorite memory of your father (or father figure) just to let him know he is not forgotten and much loved...
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Happy Father's Day
And if you forgot to get a card, please feel free to share a favorite memory of your father (or father figure) just to let him know he is not forgotten and much loved...
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11 comments:
Bev, I'm strictly anti-greeting card.... generic manufactured thoughts grrrrr. And I will not participate in any Hallmark holidays.... a plague on their offices.
But I do like my dad and I'm thankful for him -- but that's none of Hallmark's business.
Bev: My younger daughter and her husband had better come up with something better than a Hallmark card after I've spent 10 days taking care of all the farm animals at their ranchito. I smell of 9 sheep, 4 goats, 4 dogs, 9 turkeys, 4 ducks, 5 geese, 3 horses, uncountable chickens and one big nasty rooster, 3 cats, two rabbits, a hamster and a rat. Not to mention that Niko the Wonder Pup is wondering why I come home covered in the scent of all those beasties while I'm not paying sufficient attention to him. LOL
Andrew, that didn't hurt too much, now did it? Look at it this way, even a greeting card company-generated holiday is good for the economy. Think of all the mediocre poets that are employed! What would they do if they didn't have greeting cards?
LawHawk - A rat? I think they should give you medal! Most people do everything they can NOT to have a rat...
Bev, You have no idea how much I hate the cheapening of sentiment that Hallmark causes. Hallmark has tried to distill human emotion and human relations into a marketing gimmick. If I wasn't out of Fatwa paper, I swear I would add them to the list with Microsoft!
Bev: The rat's the easy one to feed. He'll eat anything, including my finger if I get too close. And that said, guess where I have to go right now.
When I was 5 or 6, I sneaked over to my friend's house to play in the sprinklers on a Sunday afternoon after being told not to. When I was found out, I distinctly remember the sinking feeling in my gut and the fear of being punished by my dad. Instead of yelling or spanking or any other number of horrors that ran through my mind, my dad took me for a walk around the neighborhood and explained why we don't play on the Sabbath and how disappointed he was that I disobeyed my mom. He offered kind and wise council and forgiveness. My husband reacted similarly when my 5 year old punched a hole in the wall recently by slamming the garage door open. I am grateful for the influence of both of these good fathers.
My favorite memory of my dad would have to be when I was 5 or 6 and did something bad--I don't even remember what it was, I think I mouthed off to an adult or something--and got a good swat and a talking-to from him. Afterwards he told me that he was sorry he had to do that, but he wouldn't discipline me if he didn't love me. Not the warmest thing in the world, I know, but it always stuck with me for some reason. Pretty good summation of parents' responsibilities towards their children, I always thought.
And LawHawk, as someone who frankly enjoys the smell of cow manure, all I can say is: you live in a rural area now. Suck it up.
It's funny how the memories are of discipline and redemption.
My father swatted me once when I was about 3 or 4. As the story goes, I had spilled my milk at the table and my Dad got annoyed, swatted me on the behind and sent me to my room. I came back out a few minutes later, put my little hand on his arm and, with a single tear running down my little cheek, sniffed out "Daddy I sure do love you!" That was the last time my father and I ever had a conflict! But then he swears I have never given reason for any conflict. Ahh, fathers and daughters...
two of my most dad's most memorable pieces of advice:
1) Do what I tell you without question. What if I saw a huge ton of horse manure about to fall on your head and I shouted "MOVE!)
2) You should not start a family until you have a way to support it.
T-Rav: I love the smell of cow manure in the morning. It smells like victory. Oops, wrong script, it actually smells like, well, cow manure. Actually, I'm the one with the cows, my daughter doesn't have any. And they're really not my cows, they just like to wander onto the southwest part of my property and munch on the tall grass during the spring and fall.
Believe it or not, as close as we were to LA when I was growing up, it still had a lot of farms and cattle, particularly Dairy Valley (now Cerritos), Westminster, and Artesia. My dad's business was trucking calves and cows to the slaughterhouses in Heinz (now part of the city of South Gate). That's all gone now, but guess who my dad singled out to be his loyal helper back then. Believe me, I know the smell of cow manure.
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