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Dad’s Day
In celebration of a pauper, prince and king
In celebration of a pauper, prince and king
I was recently asked by a friend, “Are you a princess or
a queen?” Growing up as the token female in an all-testosterone, football
playing, outdoor loving clan, I was never allowed to primp like a princess.
Also, I cannot tell you how many times I heard that “Being beautiful because
your are loved is far greater than being loved because you are beautiful.” Yes, there were times in my life when I felt
like a “pretty, pretty princess” but the majority of the time I have put my
kingdom’s needs before my own and make every attempt to lead with a strong will
and an open heart--plus I own a Corgi and was born on the queen’s birthday
which pretty much solidifies my “queenship”. With Father’s Day quickly approaching, my
thoughts turned to the alpha male, paternal ruler of our family and the role he
has played in his subject’s lives.
From prince to pauper
My Dad grew up the son of a workaholic, German/Dutch surgeon. There were privileges of course, many of which, including a free education, ended when my Dad dropped out of medical school to pursue a career in business. Dad joined the army to help pay for his education and made the brilliant move of marrying a woman with a wicked sense of humor, never-ending supply of patience and unconditional love, who opts for mammal attired sweatshirts and comfortable shoes instead of glass slippers. During the course of their fifty-five year marriage, they have long since moved from “pauper status” yet remnants of their early days still surface from time to time. You should see the man move his vacationing subjects-- with such military precision--out of lounge chairs and into a van to get the shrimp special before it ends at 5:30pm. Yet, the same man who waits until the “Wacky Wednesday” special to go to the carwash doesn’t blink an eye while writing a check for a grandchild’s tuition or a good cause.
The town crier
There are times when I think my Dad’s role in our court is spreading the news. If you are in a 20 ft. radius of my father, there is a high likelihood that you will be read some interesting tidbit from the Wall Street Journal -whether we want to hear it or not. I have perfected the art of the “smile and nod” as he announces the conditions of fluctuating foreign market values. He has also made his presence known in around other courts-especially while his granddaughters play competitive tennis. At times, he has been banished-by his own people mind you-to sit in the car when he gets a bit overly excited.
A hands on ruler
Growing up there were times when I wished the proverbial bar he placed over our heads could have been lowered a notch. As an adult and parent I now know how blessed I am that he continually pushes us to be our best. He is not castle bound. Dad has trudged through the moats of listening to “Hot Crossed Buns” through countless band concerts (although he recently came up with a number). He has lost feeling in his limbs from sitting cross-legged at Indian Princess gatherings and has racked up countless hours sitting on aluminum bleachers watching his kids’ and grandkids’ sporting events. We were always told, “Leap and the net will follow.” Thanks to my Dad, I have taken risks with the unspoken knowledge that he believes in me yet will be there to catch me if and when I fall. Yes, he is strong willed and a TAD controlling (somewhere my Mom is rolling her eyes back into her head). Often instead of the warm fuzzy hug I get a pat on the back with a firm, “Love ya!” but I will take it all. For I get to call the man who is a beautiful combination of jester, town crier, deacon, and benevolent leader “DAD”.
From prince to pauper
My Dad grew up the son of a workaholic, German/Dutch surgeon. There were privileges of course, many of which, including a free education, ended when my Dad dropped out of medical school to pursue a career in business. Dad joined the army to help pay for his education and made the brilliant move of marrying a woman with a wicked sense of humor, never-ending supply of patience and unconditional love, who opts for mammal attired sweatshirts and comfortable shoes instead of glass slippers. During the course of their fifty-five year marriage, they have long since moved from “pauper status” yet remnants of their early days still surface from time to time. You should see the man move his vacationing subjects-- with such military precision--out of lounge chairs and into a van to get the shrimp special before it ends at 5:30pm. Yet, the same man who waits until the “Wacky Wednesday” special to go to the carwash doesn’t blink an eye while writing a check for a grandchild’s tuition or a good cause.
The town crier
There are times when I think my Dad’s role in our court is spreading the news. If you are in a 20 ft. radius of my father, there is a high likelihood that you will be read some interesting tidbit from the Wall Street Journal -whether we want to hear it or not. I have perfected the art of the “smile and nod” as he announces the conditions of fluctuating foreign market values. He has also made his presence known in around other courts-especially while his granddaughters play competitive tennis. At times, he has been banished-by his own people mind you-to sit in the car when he gets a bit overly excited.
A hands on ruler
Growing up there were times when I wished the proverbial bar he placed over our heads could have been lowered a notch. As an adult and parent I now know how blessed I am that he continually pushes us to be our best. He is not castle bound. Dad has trudged through the moats of listening to “Hot Crossed Buns” through countless band concerts (although he recently came up with a number). He has lost feeling in his limbs from sitting cross-legged at Indian Princess gatherings and has racked up countless hours sitting on aluminum bleachers watching his kids’ and grandkids’ sporting events. We were always told, “Leap and the net will follow.” Thanks to my Dad, I have taken risks with the unspoken knowledge that he believes in me yet will be there to catch me if and when I fall. Yes, he is strong willed and a TAD controlling (somewhere my Mom is rolling her eyes back into her head). Often instead of the warm fuzzy hug I get a pat on the back with a firm, “Love ya!” but I will take it all. For I get to call the man who is a beautiful combination of jester, town crier, deacon, and benevolent leader “DAD”.
