It will be Father's Day tomorrow and I want to wish all the fathers a great day. I hope you all get some "Old Spice" and a burned pancake breakfast cooked by your kids.
They don't make Dads like Steve Douglas anymore. Where is the TV show where a Dad loves his kids and is reasonable and fun. I think the only one that shows a "Real" Dad is Modern Family where you several real "types" of Dads.
You have the type of Dad like me in Ed O'Neil who is a blustering well meaning old school pop. A disciplinarian but someone who you know loves you.
You have the Dad who is goofy who wants to be a pal to his kids but has a good heart.
And you have the two gay dads who together make up a whole.
But you know Steve Douglas was all of those people in one.
4 comments:
My dad and Fred McMurray attended the same high school in Beaver Dam, Wisconsin. My dad knew McMurray fleetingly (there was a age difference) and whenever I asked about McMurry, the answer I'd get was always "he was a stand-up guy."
My old man is still alive. He's 86 and let's himself into my house a couple of times a week; usually to drop off a magazine he thinks I'd like, bring a sub for lunch (at 9:30), or just talk. I'm always glad for the company.
Three years ago at Father's Day he gave me two brown mugs; plain, unadorned. I said thanks, of course. He said let me tell you about these mugs. Here's his story:
"In spring of 1942, I was fresh out of basic training for the Navy and home on leave. I knew that I was going to be shipped out for Guadalcanal that summer. Guadalcanal was going to be rough, a lot of guys weren't going to come home from that one.
"My dad had stomach cancer. Medicine back then wasn't what it was now, and we knew he had a hard fight in front of him.
"Either way, we thought the day I left would be the last time we saw each other on earth. My old man brought these two mugs home from work. (He worked as a brewmaster at the Pilot Brewing Company in Beaver Dam). We sat down at the kitchen table, filled the mugs, toasted each other and drank.
"sat there all night, an old man dying of cancer and a kid going off to war. We talked about life, our neighbors, how hard it was to scratch out a living as an immigrant, women, living a good life, how to beat my brother at sheepshead, and everything else we could think of to avoid talking about what was ahead.
"I left the naxt morning, on a bus for the Navy base in Waukegan. I hugged my old man, hard, before I got on the bus. he hugged back and said "I'll see you again.""
"I shipped out in June, 1942. The battle began in August, 1942. I received word in December that my old man had died.
"After the war I met and married your mom. A few years after you were born, your grandmother gave me these mugs to keep. Now they're yours. Go have a beer with your son."
I have them now, kept safe where they won't break, to be handed down to my son after I've passed.
Happy Father's Day, Dad.
I made a big enough fool of myself with my venting last year on this topic, and won't stink it up for all y'all this year.
Happy, Happy to those for whom it applies!!
Jeez, Michael.
I just got back from the Toy Story (where I managed to hide any misty eyes from my children and dad) and you post this?
Give a dad a break!
Post a Comment