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.