Fathers Day was all about surprise and delight this year, with donuts and catfish, the Times and the pool, the Cubbies at Wrigley on Sunday Night Baseball (with just a short late peek at the Cavs’ moment of triumph) , and finally the phone call from distant Older Daughter.
And of course thoughts of gratitude for my own late father‘s wonderful lifelong modeling of how to live honestly and humbly, to be of service, to be worthy of appreciation. I fear I took him too much for granted. So many other fathers, like the one in today’s poem, were so much less worthy. He was quiet, kind, generous, selfless, supportive, strong. “On the days I am not my father,” I could do much better.
6:30/5:32, 72/92, 8:06
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