As
it turned out, this past Father’s Day was the last such holiday that I got to
spend with my dad. He passed away peacefully in the hours of July 10, family at
his side, after more than six months of significant health issues.
|
Doug Franckling
Father's Day 2013 |
It’s
been said that a young boy’s first hero is his father. In most cases, I think
that’s true. But I can only speak from experience. When we were much younger,
before we went off to grammar school, a day seemed to last a lifetime rather
than whiz by as they do now.
A
good part of those long early 1950s weekdays was spent at play – and waiting
for dad to come home from work so we could do what dads and sons do together.
He’d putter around in the garage or fix things, and I’d be the apprentice with
lots of questions. So many questions that my grandfather nicknamed me
“Questions.” Or I’d hang around the volunteer fire station with Dad as he did
what needed to be done in our village in upstate New York.
One
Saturday, he introduced me to what became a lifelong love of freshwater
fishing. We caught a 14-inch rainbow trout that morning. Actually, he caught it
– but he told everyone else that I was the lucky angler. Dad was like that. But
I was luckier than he knew.
He
was a man of few words – but spoke volumes through his everyday examples of how
to live a life. Work hard, support and nurture your family, enjoy your friends,
stretch your creativity and interests…. and seize every
opportunity to travel – with Mom. (They made it to all 50 states).
That
was Dad. And I thank him again for those lessons.