It’s stupid to make generalizations about Daddys or Mommys because there are so many kinds. Since it’s Father’s Day, I’m thinking of the fathers I’ve known and lost…grandfather, father, father-in-law, husband, son…and celebrating the sons-in-law I have as fathers to my grandchildren. The best I can do is talk about the things that I’ve loved the most about all of these important guys in my life.

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I’ve seen them cry. Maybe not my grandfather, but all the rest of them have at least had a tear in their eye from laughter, pride, love, grief more than once. Real men DO cry for the right reasons.

They’re responsible. They do their very best to take care of their family financially. They teach their children right from wrong. They have great work ethics. They take the time to share themselves with the next generation.


They pitch in when needed. They help around the house, help with the kids, help with dinner. My own father may have been the worst…he didn’t know we had a hammer, but he did mow the lawn. He only cooked outside. But he was there, trying. My husband, son, and sons-in-law are all over helping everyone. They diapered, fed, cooked, helped anyone in the family move anything.

They love their wives. Maybe the most important thing because it teaches their children so much.

They have great senses of humor. Maybe the second most important thing, really. They all had more than a sense of humor…they were genuinely funny. And silly. My father used to sit at the table and start stories like “when I discovered America…” I know he did it just to see us roll our eyes. But it made us laugh too. He was an elegant man, but he could be silly. My husband was just funny, silly, goofy. And we could always laugh together. Sometimes we were having an argument and then we’d look at each other, realize the absurdity of it all, and just burst out laughing. My husband and son used to sit with each other making up puns from the time my son was very small. We laugh a lot in our family. I think my daughters must have known they’d never be happy without that quality.

They play. There’s a lot of the little boy in them that comes out to join their kids.


They’re not perfect. Thank goodness. I’ve known people who had to be right, had to meet expectations of perfection, and it was tough. I could go through flaws, but they are part of what makes them each unique. They’re perfect enough…

Thanks to all my guys, those gone and those still here. I can’t love any of you enough.