It's a beautiful father's day here on the Knolltop. I'm having a cup of coffee before the boys and I head back out to the barn to finish chores. Then we'll take Big Daddy out for breakfast!
I wrote a Father's Day column last week and have had several comments about it so I thought I'd better include it here for those of you who don't read it in any paper. I even had a Pastor ask for a copy of it to put in his church bulletin and to share on his radio program.
So here it is....
Truth From the Trenches
By Melissa Hart
He is tall and skinny, short and round. He wears shorts and tank tops and slacks with starched shirts. He has dirt under his fingernails with sweat dripping down his forehead and he is as clean and neat as a white sheet of paper.
He’s a mechanic, a banker, a dairy farmer and a factory worker. He knows how to change a flat tire and some spark plugs and he knows the ins and outs of Wall Street investments.
He’s good with his hands, has the biceps of Hercules and he has trouble bending over to tie his shoes. He can run a marathon and likes to drive to the mailbox. He drives pick-up, a Lincoln Town Car and a Cobalt.
He likes pizza and beer and pasta salad and red wine. He knows his way around the kitchen making a killer omlet and he is challenged to find the difference between the coffee maker and the blender.
He’s never cleaned a bathroom in his life and he’s gets upset when the shower isn’t wiped down after use.
He’s geeky with a silly sense of humor and he’s trendy knowing all the slang. He knows how to program a computer without the slightest idea of what “protect the plate” means. He can still place a double while never knowing that stripes and plaids don’t go together.
He wears wrinkled t-shirts to his kid’s awards ceremony and wouldn’t be caught dead in anything less than a pressed dress shirt and khaki slacks at the Christmas concert.
He’s got a pony tail left over from the 60s and his barber knows he likes it “high and tight.” His face is clean shaven everyday without fail and he’s got a full beard.
He wears cowboy boots, tennis shoes, loafers and wing tips. He never leaves without his favorite hat and his hair is perfectly styled with the help of sculpting gel.
Plaid shirts are great, tank tops are better, polos are his pick and his dresser is full of t-shirts. He loves baseball, football, hockey and NASCAR. He can’t live without his Blackberry, laptop and Starbucks coffee.
His wife is his jewel and his kids are his heritage. He hugs his little girl one day and then steps back the next as he watches her emotions run wild on a tirade confirming that he’ll never understand the female gender.
He knows his daughter needs him desperately but struggles to know when to wrap his arms around her or give her some space.
He wants his sons to make all the right choices but has a hard time getting beyond their hormone ravaged body and mind. He can see their path and wants to make it straight and painless, but knows they will suffer just like he did and will be better for it.
He wants his six year old to knock the ball off the tee, his ten year old to hit a single, his 16 year old to hit a grand slam and his 25 year old to move out and get a job.
He wants his daughter to marry the perfect man, knowing he doesn’t exist and his son to marry a woman who will whip him into shape.
He wants his parents to be taken care of, his wife not to worry and his kids to be happy.
He wants his wife’s respect, his daughters’ love, and his son’s admiration.
He has so much to share but can’t find the words. He has so much to give, but fears rejection. He has so much potential but not enough self confidence.
He’s given it his best, most of the time, but knows he falls short of his own expectations. He wishes for second chances, longs to take back misspoken words and despises the hurt he has caused.
He’s tenderhearted yet well guarded. His heart has been broken a million times but you’d never know it. He’s a provider, a protector, knight in shining armor. He’s a businessman, a caregiver, a decision maker and a rock.
Who am I writing about? You guessed it….your dad.
Happy Father’s Day!