Father's Day

I grew up in the era of the TV sit-com Father Knows Best, though mine was a far-from-typical household. Both of my parents worked. My mother hated to cook. My father enjoyed it. And I learned to do it as a matter of self-preservation because if I waited for either of them to do it after work, who knows at what hour we'd have eaten.

I've been thinking a lot about my dad today. He died twelve years ago this coming August and over the years I missed a lot of Father's Days. There were calls, of course, and presents, but it was only in the last few years of his life that I was fortunate to be around in person. That was such a blessing.

I'm always amazed at how many folks I know rarely get home to see their parents, sometimes even when living nearby. Despite the distance between us -- with my folks in Virginia and me in Florida -- I tried to always make it home at least once a year and they usually came to Florida to spend time with me, as well. Now that my dad is gone, I'm so glad that we talked on the phone so regularly and saw each other so often.

My dad was a product of the Depression, a man who believed in frugality and in not taking financial risks. Yet, when I decided to quit my newspaper job to take a chance on becoming a writer, he was in my corner a hundred percent. And when I dragged him to book signings and forced him to buy a book he could have gotten from me free at home, he complained only mildly that it would have been easier just to give me the percent of the cover price I was going to earn from the sale. Though my mom, the reader in the family, died before my first book sold, my dad would sit in the mall at some of my signings with a smile on his face as he watched me chat with readers. I'm sure he was thinking of her, just as I do whenever a new book hits store shelves.

Though my mom was far too young when she died -- only 60 -- my Dad lived till 80, and was active until the last day, working in his garden, hanging out with neighbors to chat. Both of them died way too suddenly, which is why I want to take today to remind all of you with Dads who are still around, treasure them.

Listen to their stories for the hundredth time, heed at least some of their advice, give your children the opportunity to know them. Treat them well, not just on Father's Day, but all year. That's the only sure-fire way I know not to live with regret when they're gone.

My dad was a southern gentleman, who hated my occasional use of profanity, had a kind word for everyone, took candy to local store clerks at Christmas, and packaged up boxes of tomatoes and shipped them to me every July for my birthday because for me there's never been anything tastier than a Virginia home-grown tomato out of his garden. Mine, no matter how hard I try now that I'm living here in the summer, have never quite measured up. I know there's some secret ingredient missing from the soil. I'm sure he kept it from me just so I'd miss him even more.

So, to all of you out there lucky enough to have fathers around today, be grateful. Enjoy them. Happy Father's Day!!!