Dad’s Day

Some dads bring home the bacon,

other dads cook it, almost all of them eat it,

sneaking a slice or two of that crispy goodness when Mom’s not looking.

My dad perfected the art of the Dagwood Sandwich,

and taught me the tricks of the trade,

how to pile assorted meats and cheeses, tomato, lettuce and onion

between two slices of white bread,

and how to eat it without it all squirting out the bottom of the sandwich.

But what’s the deal with Dads and fire?

Fireworks, fire pits, chopping wood for the fires in the fireplace, firing up the grill

where the burnt offerings will be made.

And with the fire, smoke, and the more smoke the better.

Is he Prometheus reborn?

Or are the pyrotechnics like the colorful plumage males of certain species display

to attract attention and impress their mates and offspring?

Dad’s fix stuff, usually because Dad’s break stuff.

And fixing stuff involves numerous trips to the hardware store usually to

purchase a particular tool needed for a particular repair

which will then be placed in one of many overflowing tool boxes

along with the other assorted tools, screws, bolts and bits and glue bought

while buying the particular tool needed to fix the particular repair.

Dad’s rank repair jobs by the number of Band-Aids needed.

Did you know that Band-Aid and bandage sales rise sharply on Saturdays?

Fixing stuff also requires a very specialized, usually emphatic,

though most certainly unrepeatable vocabulary,

which through the years of breakages and attempted fixes

Dad’s have thoroughly mastered.

Dad’s teach what they know: Mowing the grass, changing the oil, cooking

grandma’s special spaghetti sauce; fishing, camping, hunting, star gazing, and

more.

My dad once taught me how to cook bacon and eggs in a paper sack over a

campfire without the whole thing catching fire.

But if it did, it was OK, because, hey, it was a fire.

Dad’s teach what they don’t know they’re teaching too:  Respect, loyalty,

commitment, following through on things, keeping your word, helpfulness, and

love.

Sure, there are less admirable things Dad’s teach, like that specialized vocabulary

usually reserved for repair work, though it is not their intention to do so.

But in the long run it’s usually the more admirable things that become more

deeply ingrained.

Some Dads are fanatical about sports, others love cars, some sing and play                                   musical instruments, others are avid runners, cyclists, and swimmers.

Some Dads travel, others work from home, some Dads are divorced, but all dads                         are concerned, and care, and want to make the world better for their children,                    and see their children make the world better.

Sometimes Dads have strange ways of showing this, and sometimes Dads send               mixed signals or no signal at all.

But underneath the “I wear the pants of the family” veneer, is a big, and easily                 broken heart for his beloved children.

Dads, they come in all shapes and sizes, each one different, each one unique.                   Sometimes they need our help to be the best they can be.

But most of the time, whether consciously or not, we’re calling out to them,

“Look Dad, look at me.”

And when they do, when they look our way and seem pleased,

Well that’s all it takes for us to be all we can be.

Thanks Dad, and all Dads everywhere;

in forming young lives and unlocking potential, you are the key.