Yeah, I know, I’m a day late with Father’s Day. I had a wonderful day yesterday, made special by my three kids and seven grand kids. Like my wife said, “Did you ever think you would have grand kids, let alone seven?” Wow! But, I digress.
All day yesterday I sort of had an empty feeling about Father’s Day, something was missing. I enjoyed my grandson’s baseball game, the cookout at my older son’s house, the get-together with the “fam”, but something was gnawing at me all day. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first, but then I realized that my Dad wasn’t with us any more and I really didn’t have anything to celebrate. For me, personally, Father’s Day wasn’t about me being a father, it was about celebrating my father.
Harvey, my dad, died eight years ago. Hmmm, what could I say about him the day after Father’s Day? I’ll share with you the first thing that came to my mind about remembering my dad.
I never heard my dad swear, ever. He lived to be 86 and I never heard him swear. Wow. That may not sound like such a big deal, but I think it is. My kids certainly won’t be able to say they never heard their dad swear. Not even close. Here are two big reasons why I think my Dad’s self control in front of his kids was so amazing:
1) He was in the Navy on a cruiser ship in the Pacific during WWII, so I’m certain he knew plenty of swear words in many colorful combinations, and
2) He was a life-time golfer, so he had plenty of opportunity and reason to use the words.
Harvey, here’s to you, this Bud’s for you. Love you, man.
Thought for the Day: A filthy mouth will not utter decent language. Chinese Proverb