About dads ...

About dads ...
He may have carried you on his shoulder up a couple of flights of stairs with a bum knee after you fell blissfully asleep on that long drive to grandma’s, taught you how to throw a baseball or counseled you on the dangers of wild women and song.
That’s what dads do.
They’ll show you how to carve a pumpkin. Race across town to take you to get your driver’s license, and work late on Tuesday to get the time off the next day for your band concert.
And dads also teach, scold - maybe get a little argumentative - cringe when you wreck the car (and breathe the deepest sigh of relief to learn that all you busted was some metal and not your skull) and maybe lecture you, just for good measure, on the age-appropriate dangers of the world.
First it was riding your bike in the street, then squandering your allowance on candy and gum. Later: not calling to say you’d be late, or sleeping late when there were chores to be done.
Dads can impart a lot with just a few words. Good report card. Clean your room. Nice job on the lawn. Take out the trash. I like your essay. Did you finish your homework?
That’s what dad’s say.
At the time some of that dad-speak can sting, but time passes to reveal its intent. The stern missives come without malice. They’re guideposts to follow, not criticism. The praise and the barbs both say he cares.
That’s what dads are all about.
Just about any man can be a father - it’s in the DNA.
But it takes a whole lot more to be a dad ... and I had a good one.
It’s sad he’s no longer around to hear it.