This is something my father did for each of his four daughters and for years, we bought it hook, line and sinker. Each Valentine's Day, we would a receive a valentine signed by one of our favorite stars... Hopalong Cassidy, Cisco Kid, Tab Hunter... you get the idea. Because he traveled, my father told us he ran into whomever the star was on the train and asked him to sign the card. And we believed him. I think it was one of the most thoughtful and loving thing he could do for us. The last one I received was from The St. Louis Blues Hockey Team (by that time, I realized what he was doing and just loved the fact that he knew of my passion for hockey). The next year I did not get one (he felt we had gotten too old) and I was brokenhearted.
Feel free to steal this idea. Your children will love it and remember it always.
My dad was a super dad and I was very close to him. There were 7 kids in our family and I was one of the youngest; my twin was younger by 3 minutes.
I went to my dad for everything. When I started my period, I went to him. Whenever I needed pads or etc., I would tell him I needed special cookies--that was our code. He was a real shining light in my life. My dad has been gone 9 years now and I really miss him. I always look up and hope he is giving me his approval. I guess I was daddy's girl.
Colorado Springs, CO
As you know, my last name is Hill. My father was a wonderful dad and husband. He was a good Republican and tax collector for almost 30 years. Dad had very expensive gold caps in his mouth and one evening we had a spaghetti dinner with all the trimings and were making a lot of homemade banana daiquiris. We had close friends over. Well... Dad bit into a black olive and hit a pit and his gold cap fell out and he swallowed it. We were all laughing. Dad had all the money in the world and could have gotten another gold cap, but it was the principal of the thing... and he was one for saving money. So... he was determined to get that gold cap and have the dentist put it back in his mouth. So he waited and waited, and... well, you know! He dug through his... and put it in a bucket and dug through... until he found it and went to the dentist the next day. LOL So the joke was... YEP, THERE IS GOLD IN THEM THERE HILLS. As far as the banana daiquiris, the produce man could not figure out why my father and all the neighborhood kept coming into the produce area asking for the rotten black bananas. Dad said they made the best banana daiquiris.
When I was 14, some friends and I decided it was time to go out on a date. Only problem was... no money. So I asked my mother if she would loan me $5.00 until I got paid from my part time job. She told me to ask my father because she didn't have any money to loan me. I was crushed; in my house if you didn't have any money, you just didn't go. But desperate people do desperate things. I waited until after dinner when my father was seated in his favorite chair reading the evening paper until I got the courage to ask. Well, to my shock and surprise, he told me to go into his vest and I would find the money I needed. Sure enough, there it was. I thanked him and told him I'd pay him back when I got paid. Time went by, and of course I found other things to spend my money on, but my father said nothing. We decided it was time to go on another date and I of course was once again broke--no problem, I'll just ask my father. So I went to my father and asked him for more. Well, he didn't look up, but told me to go to his vest and get the money I needed. Oh man, was this simple, I had it made. I looked in every pocket, but there was no money, so I went back to him. He told me to look again, which I did with the same result. I went back to my father and told him once again and told him he must have made a mistake, there was no money in the vest. He looked over the paper and said,"Did you put back the money I loaned you?" "No," I said. He looked at me again and said, "That's why it's not there," and returned to reading his newspaper. Conversation over. Needless to say, I didn't go on that date and never ever failed to pay back any debt. It was a lesson my father taught me that I still follow to this day.
I was six years old and on a trip to town with my dad. Having my father all to myself was a rare treat--being the youngest of five children does not allow many opportunities for one-on-one time with a parent. As we were strolling along the main street of our small town, my father greeted an old friend. He introduced me as his youngest daughter, and the man reached out to shake my hand. Later, as the man walked away, my father squatted down to my level and said, “Shake my hand.” He gently held my hand in his and taught me how to properly execute a handshake. “Reach out willingly, grasp the hand firmly, smile and let your eyes get to know the other person. It will make them feel special.” I wasn’t sure what the big deal was, but since my father felt it important, I felt I had better learn.
Through the years my father taught me, by example, more handshake lessons. He taught how the handshake is a commitment to be true to your word. I watched him seal many unwritten contracts with the shake of his hand. It was a matter of honor, integrity and respect. I watched and learned how a handshake offered in sympathy can communicate sorrow, care and concern. I have since learned that many handshakes end with a hug. A handshake offered with enthusiasm, excitement and approval could congratulate another’s success as well as words. A farewell handshake can send a traveler on his way with the sense that someone cares for his well being--and provide a comforting remembrance for the person left behind. My father fell victim to a disease that robbed him of his ability to understand his surroundings. But until the day he died, he offered his hand to visitors with excitement and genuine pleasure--his handshake spoke the words he was unable to voice. It’s more than a handshake that I offer these days--it’s my father, the lessons he taught me, the standards he upheld, and the knowledge that my hand holds a legacy that will long survive a fleeting touch. My hand offers the legacy of my father.
Vero Beach, FL
My dad, Veston Morrow, is deceased now, but I have many wonderful memories of him. He was very tender-hearted and wouldn't hurt a fly. He and my mom lived on a farm with chickens & roosters. One rooster would get right by their bedroom window around 4am and start crowing every morning. My dad would get up, go outside and run it off. He finally got tired of doing that since it didn't do any good. One morning he decided to take his gun and just shoot up in the air in the hopes that it would scare the rooster so badly it would stop crowing every morning. He just didn't have the heart to kill it. So, the next morning when it started crowing he got his gun, went outside, shot up in the air... and shot the power line apart and destroyed it (but the rooster lived).