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CJ Heck

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By CJ Heck   
Rated "G" by the Author.
Last edited: Monday, June 06, 2011
Posted: Monday, June 06, 2011

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Father's Day is coming ...

I woke up this morning feeling homesick for my dad. It was only 5:00 a.m., though, and way too early to call him. At his age, he doesn't hop out of bed quite as easily as he did when I was a child and growing up with all my siblings on Elm Street in Coshocton, Ohio.

When I was a little girl, my dad was ten feet tall. He had all of the answers for all of your questions. He could fix anything that broke. If you got a bump, he would have you soak it in Epsom Salts and it got better -- if it was a cut, he painted it with "daddy's red paint" (Mercurochrome) and the cut got better, too. In this child's eyes, my dad was the smartest man in the world and he could do anything.

He was a quiet, man. It took a lot to make him raise his voice, and believe me when I say, with six children in the house, an assortment of foster kids in and out over the years, plus all of our friends, you would think anyone would blow once in awhile, but he kept his cool, no matter what.

Here's a little example: When daddy taught each of us how to drive, we had one cardinal rule which was never to be broken. We had to wear our seat belt. We knew it was because he loved us and wanted us to be safe -- we kids all decided that dad would probably petition the church to add that as number eleven to the Ten Commandments: "Thou Shalt Not Forget Thy Seat Belt". Not to wear a seat belt in our family meant losing our right to drive for two weeks. If we broke that rule, (we all learned this the hard way) he never said a word. When the guilty party drove home, parked, and got out of the car, if Daddy met us at the front door, silently holding his hand out for the car keys, we knew he had seen we weren't wearing our seat belt. He didn't have to say a word -- we knew. The rule had come from his heart. We knew, in that one moment, we had broken it.

I also remember a valuable lesson he taught me when I was about ten -- I never forgot the message behind it. In our home, dad did the grocery shopping. Mama made her list and gave it to dad, and then he took one of us along to help him with the grocery bags. This particular day, it was my turn. When we got to the cash register, the cashier announced that the bill was $122.56. In 1959, that was a lot of money -- to a ten year-old, that was at least the price of a new car. Well, I watched the expression on his face turn to firm resolve as he reached into his pocket for his billfold, took out some bills and then handed the money to her.

We put the groceries in the back of our station wagon and I climbed into the front seat for the drive home. On the way, I thought a lot about how expensive it must be, having a big family like ours. I was thinking of ways I could help save money, since he had spent so much at the store. I remembered all the times I had heard mama or daddy tell us to turn off the TV or lights if we weren't using them, and I promised myself I would do a better job. I must have been uncharacteristically quiet, because right about then, daddy asked me if if I was okay. I told him I was fine, but then I asked, "Daddy, are we poor?"

Daddy reached over and patted me on my arm and said, "No, honey. We're not poor. We're not poor at all. We have everything we need. We just don't have a lot of money."

I've thought about that day so many times in the years since. Dad taught us so many important lessons about life and about love. He would say we all try to live life way too seriously. When we do that, we miss the real beauty, it's in the small things. Puddles are there for splashing in; mud is for making mud pies; mirrors are there for making funny faces; and a hug ... well, a hug will fix just about anything that a bandaid won't cover up. Love is measured in so many precious minutes -- it's important we not miss any of them -- who knows, life might be metered in only hours.

His message was so clear: everything that matters, everything that's important, we had -- love is what's important.

To My Dad ...

Any man can be a father.
The good ones become dad.
There are papas, pops and pa's
and even my old man,
but only the very special ones
stay forever "daddy".

I love you, Daddy.
You're still ten feet tall ...

Web Site: Barking Spiders Poetry for Children

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Reviewed by Patrick Granfors 6/14/2011
Wonderful message. Lost my dad in 2005. Our messages were mostly telepathic since neither of us spoke much. Didn't seem to matter that some things were left unsaid. Does now. Patrick

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