Aaron spent the past two days simmering his homemade ragu. I’d love to share a recipe, but his sauce is an expression of his love for food rather than anything that could be pinned to paper. Two days of simmering, tasting, adding, hand wringing, simmering, tasting, adding, tasting, simmering… a lot of love went into this meal. On Father’s Day, we finally got to sit down and eat it, and it was definitely worth the wait. I’m not sure if he planned to have the sauce ready for Father’s Day, or if it just worked out that way, but I certainly wasn’t going to get in his way. I didn’t have to cook. And the food was amazing.
I’m so lucky to have such a great husband, who also happens to be an awesome dad to our 5-year-old, and an amazing, if occasional, cook.
So instead of cooking, I’m going to round up some of my favorite fathers day posts this year. I’ll tackle the dishes later.
Dale Partridge is one of my favorite writers, and he delivers again with this post on the things dads need to hear.
Suzanne Braun Levine discusses how dads parent differently now in this HuffPo piece. This is something I have noticed myself. I love how involved dads is not only a trend, it’s becoming an expectation, and guys are living up to it.
Hillary from Domestic Bliss Squared pens a letter to her dad explaining how she came to a new understanding of his perspective after becoming a parent herself.
On BlogHer, manvsmommy comes through with a wonderful letter to her husband that said something dads really need to hear, and reminding me that I need to say thank you to my husband as well. He’s an awesome dad, too.
In this TED Talk, Steve Addis shares how a little father-daughter tradition helped to bond him with his daughter.
I definitely need to include my own post: 5 things I learned from my Dad. I wrote this the first Father’s Day after he passed away, but those lessons are still the ones I would pick.
BONUS:
Since it’s Soccer Season as well as Father’s Day, I want to include a post about my favorite soccer-related funny memory of my dad: My World Cup of Father’s Day Memories.
I’m always on the lookout for free and awesome things to do with my family, especially things that are appropriate for the little one. The Burien Wild Strawberry Festival was the perfect way to spend Fathers’ Day Weekend. A small town festival with all the typical carnival rides and games, and entrance was free.
The festival was in the downtown common area, with a view of Mt. Rainier,
and we could even watch the activity at SeaTac Airport from the top of the Ferris wheel.
There were plenty of activities for the kids. Some we had to pay for, like the rides,
but many more were free. A bouncy house, several different kids art stations and play stations, and the Firefighters let my little one sit in the driver’s seat of their ladder truck, and taught her all about dialing 9-1-1.
There were plenty of cultural events, including a Chinese dragon winding it’s way through the crowd,
and later found resting.
And when the sun got just too hot, we went underground to watch the breakdancing competition in the parking structure.
I love, love, love little festivals and fairs, and this is one of the better ones I’ve been to. We’ll be back next year.
Oh, how I wish I had a picture of my dad in his old soccer referee uniform. The one that hadn’t fit for more than fifteen years, but he put it on anyways when his team needed a rally.
My dad had a way of diving in and making our interests his own. When we got into theater, he started quoting Shakespeare, and kept doing so long after we had moved on to other pursuits. Football? Football!? Once my brothers started playing football, my dad became a famous football fan in our town – the guy with the moose gooser – a cannon he lugged from game to game and fired off when ever the Palmer High School Football Team, the Palmer Moose, scored a point.
And yes, when we started playing soccer, he got into that sport as well. He helped with coaching city league teams, and eventually trained and certified to become a city league soccer referee. My dad wasn’t just a sports fan, he referred to himself as an “athletic supporter.” Of course, he couldn’t say that without snickering.
Years later we had all moved on, but Dad still quoted Shakespeare and dragged the moose gooser to all the Palmer games. And when the US Women’s team made it to the last round of the worlds cup a decade or so ago (And WON!), my dad was right there cheering them on. I went to visit my parents and found him dressed up in that old, fifteen years too small soccer referee uniform watching the game and yelling at the TV screen. But it didn’t stop there, he even flashed a yellow card at the screen.
My father passed away in October, so today, I’m facing my first fatherless Father’s Day. I had a hard time figuring out what to write; there is so much that I’m just not quite ready to talk about yet. I decided to come up with a list of things that I learned from my Dad.
1. Be creative. Improvise.
Dad could fix anything with duct tape, although that’s not the only thing he used. He never let the lack of the proper tool slow him down; not having the proper tool is just an excuse. Sometimes he would invent a tool on the spot to do what he needed. And come Halloween, if he didn’t have a good pumpkin, he might just go with a turnip from the garden.
2. Tell your stories.
Family stories are a gift. They help you understand what made your parents the way they are, what made you the way you are. They are the structure that defines the culture of your family. The paragraph below was excerpted from a 30 page autobiography Dad left for us before he died. It paints a picture of family life in 1950s Los Angeles, it also paints a picture of my grandfather, whom I never really got to know but was so instrumental in shaping my father into the man he was to become.
“One of my favorite memories of this time was Wednesday nights. That was payday and Dad would bring home a big load of groceries. He was a deputy for the L.A. County Sheriff and drove a blue 1948 Buick. I remember French bread and celery and we usually had spaghetti because that was Dad’s favorite dish. He would also like to have some red wine with his spaghetti. He would take his first glass and take a sip. He would screw up his face like it tasted worse than castor oil, vinegar, and turpentine all mixed together and as he unscrewed his face he’d say, “Man, that’s good!” About this time he told me he wanted me to sit on his left. He explained (kidding, of course) that it was so he could “come across with this one” making a fist. Mom sat on his right so he could pat her on the shoulder so she would know he had just said something funny and (perhaps apologizing for being so corny) it was time to laugh. It was at this age, perhaps, that I began to appreciate how much my Dad loved my Mom.”
3. Read bedtime stories to your children.
In my earliest years, Dad was a full time college student working two part time jobs. Mom would adjust our bedtime to fit his work schedule and he would come home between shifts to read us a bedtime story and tuck us in. Bed time stories were a sacred tradition in our home. My parents had five kids and we would all pile up on someone’s bed every night for the bedtime story. He didn’t just read Dr. Seuss (although there was plenty of that, and Richard Scarry, and Where the Wild Things Are). As we got older he moved on to the classics like Heidi, The Swiss Family Robinson, Kidnapped, Treasure Island… We learned to love reading and stories. I learned to read by watching him read and following his finger as it dragged across the page. And every night we had that bonding time.
4. Be Happy.
Dad used that phrase a lot. He would often sign off on his letters saying “be happy.” He taught us, and modeled for us, that happiness is a choice and not an accident of circumstance. Choose happiness. Have fun. Laugh. Joke. Be Silly.
Defrosting the freezer can be a chore (remember when we had to do that?) or it can be a blast. The choice is yours.
5. Send Letters.
It didn’t matter if it was Toledo, New Orleans, or another city in our state, whenever Dad went somewhere on a business trip he sent us postcards. Not one card for all of us; each of us got our own postcard. It wasn’t a big expense, and it didn’t take a lot of time, but the payoff for us kids feeling loved and appreciated and remembered and valued – well, you can’t put a price on that. He wrote letters too. Whenever Mom would put together a care package for one of us, Dad would pack it up and include a note. It usually wasn’t very long, a few paragraphs, but I always read the note before I looked to see what else was in the box. Don’t underestimate the value of these letters. They meant enough to me that I still have a box in which I keep all the postcards and letters from Dad. And don’t confuse letters with emails. There’s something about the handwriting that makes it more personal and more meaningful.
This is the last and most precious letter I received from my Dad right after he died.
I miss you Dad.
Happy Fathers’ Day.
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