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Yesterday marked the nineteenth Father’s Day since my Dad took a jarring, premature detour into eternity. I still miss him and often consider how different life might have been had he remained. I am sure I don’t think about that as much as Mom, but I think about it. He was a good dad…better than I realized, really. He was an even better husband. I am sure he would have been a wonderful grandfather.
Fortunately, I had a backup Dad. Since Donya and I were still a year shy of leaving our teens when we married, her dad has been in my life for a long time. To him, I have always been a son, not just an inlaw. He has loved me as well as any man ever loved a son of flesh-and-blood. That flesh-and-blood feeling is mutual.
Speaking of being a Dad, it shouldn’t be necessary for the president of the United States to tell men to be men and accept the responsibility of the seed they spread. I am glad he appears to be an excellent dad and is willing to be a role model in hopes of positively impacting the neanderthal, knuckle-headed, NBA wannabe, fun-baby producing morons who continue to decorate the American landscape with daddy-less babies. I hope it helps. But I doubt it.
And now, a Dad joke:
The room was full of pregnant women and their partners, and the Lamaze class was in full swing. The instructor was teaching the women how to breathe properly, along with informing the men how to give the necessary assurances at this stage of the plan.
The teacher then announced, “Ladies, exercise is good for you. Walking is especially beneficial. And, gentlemen, it wouldn’t hurt you to take the time to go walking with your partner!”
The room really got quiet. Finally, a man in the middle of the group raised his hand.
“Yes?” replied the teacher.
“Is it all right if she carries a golf bag while we walk?”
Least favorite Father’s Day memory: an impromptu visit to an urgent care facility that resulted in receiving a prostate exam from a high school linebacker-turned-medical doctor. I remember it like it was yesterday.
Oh wait…it was yesterday.
