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Oh My Papa

  Happy Father's Day

Today's, Words are dedicated to all of you Dads, especially mine.... I miss you Daddy!

Song playing: Oh My Papa...Eddie Fisher

hi Bunny.......as you know my dad passed away last week. I lost my
grandmother and a stepfather in the past but nothing has hit me as hard as loosing dad. I've always known this would happen someday...to all of us and I know he's in a better place now and not suffering anymore but that doesn't ease the pain in my heart.......I miss him so......I wrote a poem for him for Father's Day and just wanted to share it............................................

for Willard C.....Feb.28, 1935/June 3, 2002.........

Daddy, I got a call the other day, from a thousand miles away, 

I moved away ten years ago, never knowing death would show. 

You lived for awhile with me, but back home you longed to be.

I came to see you lying there, how this pain is hard to bear. 

I gently kissed your face goodbye, as I let go my tears to cry. 

I got a call the other day, they told me that you passed away. 

I don't believe that this is true, You've just begun your life anew. 

With our Lord Jesus Christ you'll live forever in his Light. 

Yes, with God's amazing grace, I'll see again your smiling face. 

We'll dance together the dance of life, 

Forever in Heaven we've won the fight........

Happy Fathers Day, Daddy.............. I miss you.........

Sheila C............... June 12, 2002 

***************

Thinking Of You On Fathers Day

Dear Daddy I miss you more everyday 
Things just don't seem normal since you went away 
I think of all the good times we shared 
It feels so good to know how much you cared 
The things I remembered you taught me so well 
You picked me up each time I fell 
The tears of a lifetime you tried to hide 
They shown in your eyes but you called it pride 
Your smile now is only in my memory 
But I still have your love it's always with me 
Someday we'll be walking down memory lane 
You'll hold my hand with you I'll remain 
Until that sweet day when we'll nevermore part 
Dear Daddy I miss you but you're still in my heart! 

*

Happy Fathers Day 

The Board Meeting had come to an end. 

Bob started to stand up and jostled the table, spilling his coffee over his notes. 

"How embarrassing. I am getting so clumsy in my old age." 

Everyone had a good laugh, and soon we were all telling stories of our most embarrassing moments. 
It came around to Frank who sat quietly listening to the others. 
Someone said, "Come on, Frank. Tell us your most embarrassing moment." 

Frank laughed and began to tell us of his childhood.
"I grew up in San Pedro. My Dad was a fisherman, 
and he loved the sea. He had his own boat, but it was 
hard making a living on the sea. He worked hard and 
would stay out until he caught enough to feed the family.
Not just enough for our family, but also for his Mom and Dad and the other kids that were still at home."
He looked at us and said, "I wish you could have 
met my Dad. He was a big man, and he was strong from 
pulling the nets and fighting the seas for his catch. 
When you got close to him, he smelled like the ocean. 
He would wear his old canvas, foul-weather coat and his bibbed overalls. 

His rain hat would be pulled down over his brow. No matter how much my Mother washed them, they would still smell of the sea and of fish."
Frank's voice dropped a bit. 

"When the weather was bad he would drive me to school. 

He had this old truck that he used in his fishing business. 
That truck was older than he was. 
It would wheeze and rattle down the road. 
You could hear it coming for blocks. As he would drive toward the school, I would shrink down into the seat hoping to disappear. Half the time, he would slam to a stop and the old truck would belch a cloud of smoke.

He would pull right up in front, and it seemed like everybody would be standing around and watching. 
Then he would lean over and give me a big kiss on the cheek and tell me to be a good boy. It was so embarrassing for me. Here, I was twelve years old, and my Dad would lean over and kiss me good-bye!"
He paused and then went on, "I remember the day I decided I was too old for a good-bye kiss. 
When we got to the school and came to a stop, he had his usual big smile. 

He started to lean toward me, but I put my hand up and said, ''No, Dad.'' It was the first time I had ever talked to him that way, and he had this surprised look on his face." I said, "Dad, I'm too old for a good-bye kiss. I'm too old for any kind of kiss."

"My Dad looked at me for the longest time, and his eyes started to tear up. I had never seen him cry. 
He turned and looked out the windshield."
"You're right," he said. "You are a big boy....a man. 
I won't kiss you anymore."

Frank got a funny look on his face, and the tears began to well up in his eyes, as he spoke. "It wasn't long after that when my Dad went to sea and never came back. It was a day when most of the fleet stayed in, but not Dad. He had a big family to feed. 
They found his boat adrift with its nets half in and half out. He must have gotten into a gale and was trying to save the nets and the floats."

I looked at Frank and saw that tears were running down his cheeks. Frank spoke again. 

"Guys, you don't know what I would give to have my Dad give me just one more kiss on the cheek....to feel his rough old face....to smell the ocean on him....to feel his arm around my neck. I wish I had been a man then. 
If I had been a man, I would never have told my Dad I was too old for a good-bye kiss."

I don't know about the rest of the guys, but I wanted more than anything to put my arms around my Dad let him know just how special he was to me.
It is so easy to forget to tell people how important they are to us, especially our parents. 
If you are lucky enough to still have your dad around, then go and see him. Tell him how much you love and appreciate him. And if you can, put your arms around him, give him a kiss on the cheek, and let him know that he is the most important man in your life.

*

ValueSpeak, A Weekly Column
By Joseph Walker

FATHER TO SON

There are easier knots to tie than the classic Double Windsor – especially for 9-year-old fingers still struggling with the intricacies of the shoelace double knot.
But when Jon got his first non-clip-on tie recently, I was determined that he would learn to tie it properly. And as far as I was concerned, that meant a Double Windsor. None of this silly Half-Windsor stuff for my son. No, sir. And no Four-in-Hand beginning knot, either. Walker men are Double Windsor men – or they are nothing at all. “It’s not that hard, Jon,” I assured him as I quickly whipped fabric around my neck in a pattern and sequence so familiar I could do it in my sleep. “See? Around this side, then back behind, then around this side, then around the front and back behind and down and through. 
Pull it tight – and there it is!”
I admired the perfectly straight, perfectly shaped knot that almost seemed to smile back at me from the mirror with that cute little dimple that is so fashionable in ties these days. Then I looked at Jon’s tie, hanging around his neck, over his shoulder, under his armpit, through his belt loop and out his fly. As knots go, it was extraordinary – enough to bring tears to the eyes of the Great Houdini. But as a knot for tying a tie . . . well, it was no Double Windsor.
Jon smiled at me sheepishly.
“I think I need a little help,” he said.
That was a little like the captain of the Titanic saying he had a little ice problem. But I didn’t tell Jon that. I just stepped in behind him, took the fabric of his tie into my hands and demonstrated the knot from his perspective.
“Watch,” I said. “Around this side, then back behind, then around this side, then around the front and . . . “

Suddenly, I was enveloped by an overwhelming feeling of deja vu. I had experienced this simple moment of father-to-son sharing before – twice in fact. Once 10 or 12 years ago with Jon’s older brother, Joe. And once many years ago, when my father stood behind me and tried to teach my clumsy hands how to tie the Double Windsor.
It wasn’t pretty.

“But Dad,” I remember saying, “wouldn’t it be easier to just do this?” I tied a knot that was part Bowline, part Half-Hitch and mostly Granny.
“Well, that’s a fine knot, son,” Dad said as he struggled to loosen my tie from my neck, where it hung like a lopsided hangman’s noose. 
“But ... well, this other knot is the knot my father taught me, and I think he learned it from his father. All my brothers use it, and I’ve taught it to all your brothers. It’s sort of the family knot – the tie that binds.
So humor me, OK? Learn this knot. And then, if you want to use your fancy knot instead, I’ll understand.”
Then Dad stood behind me and taught me how to tie the Double Windsor – just as I was standing behind Jon and teaching him. Jon picked it up much more quickly than I did – just a few weeks later, he’s tying it all by himself (I think I was asking for help until my wedding day). He may experiment with other knots through the years. I know I did (and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a Half-Windsor around his big brother Joe’s neck).
But eventually I came back to the family knot, even though I’m not exactly sure why. It isn’t because it’s easier, because it isn’t. And the truth be told, it doesn’t even look that much better. It’s just something about that father-to-son thing. The tie that binds.
Thanks Joe....moving story

*

The Coolest Dad In The Universe

He was 50 years old when I was born, and a "Mr. Mom" long before anyone had a name for it. I didn't know why he was home instead of Mom, but I was young and the only one of my friends who had their dad around. I considered myself very lucky.

Dad did so many things for me during my grade-school years. He convinced the school bus driver to pick me up my house instead of the usual bus stop that was six blocks away. He always had my lunch ready for me when I came home -usually a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that was shaped for the season. My favorite was at Christmas. The sandwiches would be sprinkled with green sugar and cut in the shape of a tree.

As I got a little older and tried to gain my independence, I wanted to move away from those "childish" signs of his love. But he wasn't going to give up. In high school and no longer able to go home for lunch, I began taking my own. Dad would get up a little early and make it for me. I never knew what to expect. The outside of the sack might be covered with his rendering of a mountain scene (it became his trademark) or a heart inscribed with "Dad-n-Angie K.K." in its center. Inside there would be a napkin with that same heart or an "I love you." Many times he would write a joke or a riddle, such as "Why don't they ever call it a momsicle instead of a popsicle?" He always had some silly saying to make me smile and let me know that he loved me.

I used to hide my lunch so no one would see the bag or read the napkin, but that didn't last long. One of my friends saw the napkin one day, grabbed it, and passed it around the lunch room. My face burned with embarrassment. To my astonishment, the next day all my friends were waiting to see the napkin. From the way they acted, I think they all wished they had someone who showed them that kind of love. 
I was so proud to have him as my father. 
Throughout the rest of my high school years, I received those napkins, and still have a majority of them.

And still it didn't end. When I left home for college (the last one to leave), I thought the messages would stop. But my friends and I were glad that his gestures continued.

I missed seeing my dad every day after school and so I called him a lot. My phone bills got to be pretty high. It didn't matter what we said; I just wanted to hear his voice. We started a ritual during that first year that stayed with us. After I said good-bye he always said,
"Angie?"
"Yes, Dad?" I'd reply.
"I love you."
"I love you, too, Dad."

I began getting letters almost every Friday. The front-desk staff always knew who the letter were from - the return address said "The Hunk." 
Many times the envelopes were addressed in crayon, and along with the enclosed letters were usually drawings of our cat and dog, stick figures of him and Mom, and if I had been home the weekend before, of me racing around town with friends and using the house as a pit stop. He also had his mountain scene and the heart-encased inscription, Dad-n-Angie K.K.

The mail was delivered every day right before lunch, so I'd have his letters with me when I went to the cafeteria. I realized it was useless to hide them because my roommate was a high school friend who knew about his napkins.
Soon it became a Friday afternoon ritual. I would read the letters, and the drawing and envelope would be passed around.

It was during this time that Dad became stricken with cancer. When the letters didn't come on Friday, I knew that he had been sick and wasn't able to write. He used to get up at 4:00a.m. so he could sit in the quiet house and do his letters. If he missed his Friday delivery, the letters would usually come a day or two later. But they always came. My friends used to call him "Coolest Dad in the Universe." And one day they sent him a card bestowing that title, signed by all of them. I believe he taught all of us about a father's love. I wouldn't be surprised if my friends started sending napkins to their children. He left an impression that would stay with them and inspire them to give their own children their expression of their love.

Throughout my four years of college, the letters and phone calls came at regular intervals. But then the time came when I decided to come home and be with him because he was growing sicker, and I knew that our time together was limited. Those were the hardest days to go through. 
To watch this man, who always acted so young, age past his years. 
In the end he didn't recognize who I was and would call me the name of a relative he hadn't seen in many years. Even though I knew it was due to his illness, it still hurt that he couldn't remember my name.
I was alone with him in his hospital room a couple of days before he died.
We held hands and watched TV. As I was getting ready to leave, he said,
"Angie?"
"Yes, Dad?"
"I love you."
"I love you, too, Dad."

Copyright © Angie K. Ward-Kucer
Thank you Sheila.......

*

QUOTES OF THE DAY

It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was."
Anne Sexton 

"A man knows when he is growing old, because he begins to look like his father." 
Gabriel García Márquez

"I cannot think of any need in childhood as
strong as the need for a father's protection." 
-- Sigmund Freud 

"I watched a small man with thick calluses on both hands work fifteen and sixteen hours a day. I saw him once literally bleed from the bottoms of his feet, a man who came here uneducated, alone, unable to speak the language, who taught me all I needed to know about faith and hard work by the simple eloquence of his example." 
-- Mario Cuomo

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