Father's Day 2017

The first man I ever met showed me what a man could be.  This is the pattern he implanted:

I like men with capable hands, strong arms, and smart minds.  When I think of my daddy's hands--which mine are resembling more and more as I grow older--they are holding a shovel, planting a tree, or baiting a fishing line.

I like men who hug with their whole hearts, bear hugs with both arms, not sideways and half-hearted.

I like men who are not afraid of what I'm afraid of.

They pick up dead animals and bury them.  If something's broken under the house, they crawl under there and stay a long time and come out and tell you it's okay now. If there's a noise outside the window that scares you, they walk right out there in the dark and look for it.  They aren't scared of rats and possums.  They will say, "They are more afraid of you than you are of them."

They know which snakes are the good ones and which are the bad ones and they kill the bad ones with a hoe or something.  But they carry a snake-bite kit just in case.

I like hairy arms, clean-shaven faces, and a sense of humor.  Men who love the woman they picked, not always looking around for someone else. Men who love their children even when they are stinky, messy, acting out, or throwing up.

I like men who can cry.  My friend Gary could cry better than I can--which was always surprising and comforting.  His heart was so wide open that it spilled over when he read a line of good writing or heard a story that moved him. His heart with no doors on it made my heart feel bigger.

Every time we said good-bye, my daddy and I, we cried.

I like men who can take the blame when it's theirs to take and who can say, "I'm sorry."

I like men who don't go on and on about "fake" and "lying"--because they are by nature and character tellers of truth.  Honesty is so natural to them that they don't have to shout it or use all caps.

I admire men who would jump off the nearest water tower before they'd hit, insult, betray, or bully. Men who know what to do if you're sick or sad, who are always on your side if somebody hurts you, even the teacher or some bloke who broke your heart.

Even though it doesn't align with my feminist ideology (some would say it's wanting my cake and eating it too),  I like a man who picks up the dinner check and opens doors for me.  I'm capable of doing both, but it's the way my daddy did it, so I'm keeping that on the list.

My daddy never wanted much for himself.  When he died, his personal possessions could have all fit into one small room, but the church was full at his funeral, full of people who felt loved by him and had  stories to tell about what he'd done for them.  Most could remember his sayings--like "let the raw side drag" or "keep the main thing the main thing." Many could remember how he made  that chirpy whistle in the grocery store or elevators and have everyone looking for the chicken.