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HAPPY FATHERS DAY! This page is dedicated to my husband, Lee, who has been a father to my children for over
5 years
now and a pretty good adult male influence in their lives for years before
that. Their own father died in 1990, but I have heard all of them say
he is the closest thing to a father they have had over the last ten years.
It is also dedicated to fathers all over the world. It is a collection
of father "stories" I have been gathering for a while. This is for all
of our fathers.
A POEM FOR DADS (and Moms)
Now I lay me down to sleep, Author unknown GOD'S KIDS Whenever your kids are out of control, you can take comfort from the thought that even God's omnipotence did not extend to God's kids. After creating heaven and earth, God created Adam and Eve. And the first thing he said to them was: "Don't eat the forbidden fruit." "Forbidden fruit? We got Forbidden fruit? Hey, Eve.... We got Forbidden fruit!" "No way!" "Yes, WAY!" "Don't eat that fruit!" said God. "Why?" "Because I'm your Creator, and I said so!" said God, wondering why he hadn't stopped after making the elephants. A few minutes later, God saw his "kids" having an apple break and was angry. "Didn't I tell you not to eat that fruit?" the First Parent asked. "Uh huh," Adam replied. "Then why did you?" "I dunno," Eve answered. "She started it!" Adam said. "Did not!" "DID so!" "DID NOT!!" Having had it with the two of them, God' punishment was that Adam and Eve should have children of their own. Thus, the pattern was set; and it has never changed. But, there is a reassurance in this story. If you have persistently and lovingly tried to give your children wisdom, and they haven't taken it, don't be too hard on yourself. If God had trouble handling children, what makes you think it should be a piece of cake for you? Last, but not least, Lee's own personal favorite (with 5 daughters between the two of us):
Rule One: If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure as heck not picking anything up. Rule Two: You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them. Rule Three: I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, In order to assure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric staple gun and fasten your trousers securely in place around your waist. Rule Four: I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate: when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I WILL kill you. Rule Five: In order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early." Rule Six: I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make YOU cry. Rule Seven: As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process which can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car? Rule Eight: The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka zipped up to her adam's apple. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature chainsaws are okay. Hockey games are okay. My daughter claims it embarrasses her to come downstairs and find me attempting to get her date to recite these eight simple rules from memory. I'd be embarrassed too--there are only eight of them, for crying out loud! And, for the record, I did NOT suggest to one of these cretins that I'd have these rules tattooed on his arm if he couldn't remember them. (I checked into it and the cost is prohibitive.) I merely told him that I thought writing the rules on his arm with a ball point might be inadequate--ink washes off--and that my wood burning set was probably a better alternative. One time, when my wife caught me having one of my daughter's would-be suitors practice pulling into the driveway, get out of the car, and go up to knock on the front door (he had violated rule number one, so I figured he needed to run through the drill a few dozen times) she asked me why I was being so hard on the boy. "Don't you remember being that age?" she challenged. Of course I remember. Why do you think I came up with the eight simple rules?
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