Happy Father's Day

Happy Father's Day to all of the dads out there, but especially to this guy.

That's my dad when he was only 20 years old. Does he look old enough to be a father? I don't think so. He barely looks old enough to shave, but he had already been married for almost two years when this picture was taken. Notice the dog in the picture - that was Kip. I don't know what kind of dog he was but he looks a lot like a terrier, maybe a JRT?

Here he is when he was 28 years old. That's me in the life jacket and some neighbor kid in the white shirt. What's up with that life jacket? Do you think he was afraid I would drown? You can tell this was before someone invented those swimmie things kids wear on their arms.

Here he is a few years later. That's me leaning on his shoulder. Can't you just feel the love?

Here we are the day I graduated from High School. Notice the dog - that was Sam, really Samantha. She was a Border Collie mix, and she was the smartest dog I have ever known, by far. Dad put a lot of time into training her, and she knew dozens of tricks.
Here is dad from a few years ago displaying his burger-building skills. This man is serious about his burger. There is an order to all of the fixin's, and it's not done until it's too big to fit into his mouth.
There are a million and one reasons why I love this man, but right at the top of the list is illustrated in this picture:
My sister Donna got an Easy Bake Oven (can you believe they still make these things?), and here she is with her first cake. If anyone has never tried one of these cakes, they have the consistency of Play-Doh, and taste like it, too. At least that's what they were like when we were kids. Dad knew this at the time, but just look at the anticipation on his face. You know he's thinking "How and I going to get out of eating this lump of clay" but he would never show it. Sure, now and then he would tell us that he would take it to work and have it as a special snack during the day. We would lovingly wrap up the icing-covered-hockey-puck "treat" and put it in his lunch box, and picture dad enjoying his cake when he got hungry during the day. Not until many years later did he confess that they ended up in the nearest dumpster. He let us make those horrid cakes for him, and ate them if he had to, and "saved them as a special treat for later" when he just couldn't stomach it. If that isn't love, I don't know what is.

I love you, dad, more than words can say.