Happy Father's Day!!

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

They say you always marry someone just like your dad and I don’t know if that is true for everyone, but I can certainly see the similarities between my father and my husband, and I can say with great certainty that my daughter found someone who we all say reminds us of my husband.  My dad was a history teacher and high school basketball coach turned sporting goods salesman.  He had a great sense of humor and loved reading, museums, dry martinis, peanut M & M’s, crossword puzzles, and his daughters.  He wore his hair in a crew cut for as long as I can remember and the top of his hair was incredibly soft.  When we traveled as a family, he spent weeks planning our trip and found all kinds of things to do along the way.  Unfortunately for me, many of the stops we made were to museums and to this day, I hate museums with every fiber of my being.  Sorry dad!  If Joe Schmo invented it or built it, we had to stop and see where he lived.  I will never forget when we had to stop along the way to California to see Brigham Young’s house and when they told me the good news, I said, “Who is Brigham Young and why do I have to see where he lived?” 

 

On most trips, my dad would eventually pay me to be quiet in the car, because for an active child it was not easy being cooped up in a car, and I probably could not stop talking about the adventures that awaited us….”why do we have to go see where Abraham Lincoln went to school?….will there be a pool at the hotel?…..why do we have to go see some stupid guy named Mark Twain’s house?.....will there be a pool at the hotel?.....Hearst Castle sounds dumb……will there be a pool at the hotel?”  As far as I was concerned, it was a win win situation, because sometimes if I kept the questions up, my mom and sister donated to the “quiet game” and I would have enough money to spend at the cheesy gift shops along the way that I loved.  Personally, I would have been just as happy going to California and stopping at every Stuckey’s along the way and skipping all the other stuff, but my dad seemed to think that wasn’t good enough for a family vacation.   If it weren’t for my dad, I never would have seen the Grand Canyon, the Badlands, Mount Rushmore, Hearst Castle (which turned out to be great), Lombard Street in San Francisco, or Yellowstone National Park, because if they had done only what I wanted to do, we would have been in the pool all day, or horseback riding, or shopping, or holed up somewhere eating one Pecan Log roll after another.

 

So, what was I thinking when I married a guy who loves museums, history, and reading, and has a similar sense of humor?  Apparently, our daughters take after me, because the first time we took them to the Smithsonian was our last time going as a family. John walked around excitedly pointing out this and that, and my oldest followed behind saying, “who cares and how soon until lunch?” and the youngest wanted to know where the gift shop was located.  I think it was right after we got to the section about Prehistoric Man and one of them said, “he looks like daddy when he gets mad,” and we all started laughing, that my husband turned around and said we were leaving and never coming back again.  I don’t know if he expected us to be sad and contrite, but I think we all high fived each other and the oldest said, “promise," and I added, "Thank the Lord!” 

 

My mom is convinced that all daughters love their dad best and there have been times I would have to agree.  Oh sure, I know my daughters love me to the moon and back, but it is their dad who they go to for reassurance and the calmness that I don’t always provide.  Just the other day, my oldest called me about something and I gave her my advice and a day later she called and said she had talked to her father about the same thing.  When I asked her what he had said, she said he had said exactly the same thing and when I asked her who said it better, she replied, “daddy.” It is a running joke in our house and one of my buttons she likes to push and she never misses an opportunity to tell her competitive mom that her dad is perfect and I never miss an opportunity to prove I am more perfect.  I never win and frankly, I get it about daughters and dads, because I had a great one, too.

 

You really are lucky if you end up with a wonderful dad.  Not everyone does and we see examples of this every day on the news.  My daughters and I hit the jackpot with our dads and Sunday is a day to celebrate them.  I wish my dad was still here, but he has been gone since 1988.  I used to love the smell of my dad smoking his pipe and loved to go with him to the tobacco store.  I think he thought a pipe was better for him than the cigarettes and cigars he smoked when he was younger, but in the end it didn’t matter.  He was 59 when he was diagnosed with Colon cancer and 60 when it moved into his lungs and only 63 when he died.  Far too young to go, but still enough time to make a difference to three daughters and leave a void that can never be filled, because for most of us, you only get one dad.  Happy Father’s Day to all the dads who make a difference and when I get to Heaven and see my dad again, I am just praying there are no museums in the afterlife.

Christmas 1987

[Camilla and Darwin]

P.S. Did you stop in SLC to see Brigham Young's house? Was it the Lion House or the Beehive house? 

[Jane, Guinness and Murphy]

This is a wonderful blog, Laurie.  I feel like I know your Dad just from reading it.  You are very lucky to have had him in your life.  I actually married someone very different from my Dad.  My father was so interesting...he was an Accountant by day and a jazz musician by night.  How's that for extremes.  He was always the life of the party and found humor in everything.  I loved him like crazy, but unfortunately he wasn't home a lot....those two careers.  When I married I knew I wanted someone a little "lower key" than my Dad.  My DH is a quiet kind of guy who nobody would accuse of being the "life of the party"....that's fine with me.

[Lucy & AnnaBelle's Mom]

I am right with you on Museums.  The longest day of my life was spent in the Louvre in Paris and I didn't even get to see the Mona Lisa.  Vacation to me involves a beach, a pool, and shopping!  Love your tribute to your Father.  I don't know if I would say that my DH is like my Father, but I would say that they have the same values.  My Dad is very Country and DH was raised in the city.  Has learned a lot about farm life since marrying me.  But the one thing that I can say is I did marry someone that my Dad likes.  Too often, there is no one good enough for Daddy's little girl, but my Dad truly does like my DH and that was very important to me (because the first time around I didn't get it so right). 

[Jane, Rooney & Stuart]

Oh dog gone it Laurie - this blog has me in tears!  What beautiful memories you have of your Dad and a great reminder to those of us lucky to still have ours, how special they all are. 

[Lori, Rooney & Zuzu]

I too hit the jackpot with my Dad. He died 8 years ago at 62. Too young... I miss him everyday.

My husband and my Dad were kindred spirits. My husband misses my Dad as much as I do as he considered him a mentor and friend. And since I had the surprising good sense to marry a man so like my father, my kids have hit the jackpot too. I'm very grateful.

This was lovely, Laurie. Thank you so much for sharing this.

[Camilla and Darwin]

I love this post, and the picture! My DH does have a lot in common with my Dad, in fact they do more together than me and my dad do. :-) I love my dad, he's the best!

[Karen, Jasper and Jackdoodle]

What a beautiful tribute to your dad, Laurie, and to John, too, because I do think that old saying about marrying someone like your dad is true for you.

I lost my dad in 1986, on my DD's 7th birthday. He was only 66 years old. I wish that I had been smart enough to do what you did and marry someone more like him. :)

[Nina, Phil, Harlow & Lacey]

What a lovely blog.  Hope your DH has a wonderful Father's Day.

[Becka]

What a lovely post and what a lovely picture of you and your dad.