Dad

I've been thinking about my dad today. I guess that is normal on Father's Day.

My dad grew up on a rice farm in east Texas. He was the youngest of nine children. I don't know too much about his childhood except that his dad died before he was born. This worried me when I was a little girl. I could not imagine life without a father. I once asked him how he learned to be a father. He told me that my brothers and I had taught him.

My dad worked in the oilfields as a young man. During the Depression he moved his little family to California where he became the foreman of an oil refinery and later supervised a chemical plant. He worked long, hard hours.

As a little girl I was not very aware of his fatigue and stress. All I knew was that I was his princess and he loved me, he loved my mother, he loved my brothers. Dad was a gentleman who read poetry to his wife and told us children wonderful stories. I remember my older brother coming home from school one day very upset. He thought my dad was the original author of Beowulf and was quite upset to learn that this story was an old English epic poem, not Dad's own imagination at work.

Dad was never able to go college, but he was the best educated man I knew. He read about everything. He dreamed of sending his own children to college. His pride when each of us graduated was enormous.

When we were grown and the grandchildren came along my dad saw each of them as perfect. His grandchildren could do no wrong, and he would never tolerate any criticism of them. The eyes of a proud grandfather saw no wrong.

My dad left us a legacy of love, faith and goodness. He was a good man. I miss my daddy.