dad

This photo was taken in Skagway, Alaska, when I was 5 and my dad was 26. We moved there when Dad got a job with the railroad, working on the beautiful White Pass. I remember riding the train, pressing my face close to the window to look down into the ravine we were traveling through. To my young eyes, we were miles and miles above the churning river below.

For most of my life, teen years notwithstanding, I've been in awe of my dad. He's worked hard for 43+ years to take care of his family, doing the kind of work that isn't about personal satisfaction or career growth, but is about duty, paying the bills and coming home tired and dirty to your family each night. He's been a train mechanic, a catskinner for the Forest Service, a cement truck driver, long haul truck driver, and towards the end of his work years, a mechanic on Kenworth trucks. He embodies everything I admire in men: a strong work ethic, duty to family, and personal integrity.

When I was a little girl my daddy was the love of my life, my hero. He would give us whisker burns, rubbing his rough unshaved cheek against our smooth little faces, making us squeal with laughter and delight. Standing atop his feet and dancing around the living room, I felt as if I were a princess. At night he would come home dirty, greasy and sweaty from a hard day's work, then emerge later from a steamy bathroom dressed for dinner and smelling of Aqua Velva and Brillcream. To this day the smell of Aqua Velva makes my heart swell.

As a teenager I considered my dad a hardass, and major thorn in my side. He was very effective at keeping young men from coming over too often, and when they did come over, they had to meet him first. He kept track of where I was and who I was with, and waited up for me to come home from dates. He wouldn't allow me to wear the crocheted string bikini my aunt brought me back from Hawaii, and I wore halter tops in secret, covering them up with a long-sleeved shirt as I left the house so he wouldn't see. All of this irked me to no end, and was one of the reasons I left home as soon as I graduated from high school. The day I left, with my Opel Manta packed to the hilt with my belongings, Dad was in his little workshop. He didn't come tell me goodbye, and this angered me even more. My little brother later told me that dad stayed in his workshop all day, and that when he finally came out his eyes were swollen and red.

Today we've come full circle. In my mid-40's and a single mom, my father is once again my hero. He helps fix the lawnmower, shows me how to use my electric drill, and comes over from time to time to take me out to dinner, never letting me help pay the bill. He's funny, protective, and kind, and I am lucky to be his daughter. When my kids call me a hardass and complain that I'm a control freak when I want to know where they are or who they're with, I just smile. I come by it honestly, boys.

Here are best wishes for a very Happy Father's Day to my dad, and all you dads out there. Without you there would be fewer heros in this world. And in today's atmosphere, we need all the heros we can get.