On this Father’s Day it seems only appropriate to turn down one more childhood corridor to recall some favorite memories of my dad, who:
- taught me how to ride my purple banana seat, high-handled, flowered white “wicker” basket bicycle. At least twice.
- taught me how to drive—allowing me to practice in the pine-tree-filled lot next to our house while blaring “The Carpenters” on their 8 track tape player. (Hey, it was either that or the Statler Bros. Need I say more?)
- taught me how to quietly serve others. Many times he would take me with him to deliver little goodies or ready-to-use kindling on cold winter mornings to nearby elderly neighbors.
- taught me silly alternative lyrics to favorite Christmas songs just to annoy (and amuse) his mother, MaMa.
- taught me how to fish…and bait a hook. eek.
- provided a lot of fun: built a tree house (seriously) on nearby mountain property we enjoyed every other weekend, constructed a raft Tom Sawyer would’ve envied to row across the little lake that sat on the property, played hide-n’-seek, swatted at ping-pong balls (in our dining room), and churned homemade ice cream while pitching softballs out back on hot summer afternoons.
- took us on family beach trips to Garden City, SC every year, building memories that our children still enjoy to this day (especially the Yum-yum shoppe!)
- woke me up at the crack of dawn to go in search of shark’s teeth scattered in the sand.
- taught by example how to respect one’s mother and father. He served and loved both, especially in their latter years.
Because of these reasons—and so many more—I find myself especially thankful to my heavenly Father for giving me such a wonderful earthly one.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad.
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