Yes he is. And if he isn't I don't have a chance. My father figure was my Dad, I had no grandparents in my life. He was a good man, he provided a healthy and safe life for me and my three siblings. Many of us can conjure up mental images of our father holding our hands as we walk somewhere, reading a book to us, playing games in the yard with us, sitting with us in church, praising us when we did something good, correcting us when we were bad, hugging us, patting us on the head and so many other little things that a child longs for. I do not have these mental images, those things never happened between me and my father.

Dad was born as the second youngest to a family of seven kids, his birth was in the modest home that he lived in until adulthood. The little I know about his dad was that he was a bit of a drinker and was not close to his children. My only living grandparent, my dad's father died when I was in the early years of grade school. For some never mentioned reason we were kept away from him. I only saw him two or maybe three times. The last time I saw him was on the bus, I said "Hi Grandpa!", he ignored me. The kids on the bus all laughed.

Dad owned a tavern and employed his two brothers there as bartenders. The very successful tavern provided a living for seventeen people in the three families. In my first four years toddling around this earth I lived in the apartment above the tavern. Early on in my life my uncle had a terrible accident and nearly lost his leg. His time standing from that point on was very limited. My Dad began to work his brother's hours and eventually the double shift got down to twelve hours a day, six days a week. On his day off our Dad and the family spent fours at the tavern cleaning the facility and restocking the supplies. I do not remember anytime during my life living at home that my Dad was not tired. I see some of the very few photos of him now and I can see how tired he looked. He was way too tired to be that dad that everyone would like to conjure up memories of.

Dad never gave me pat on the back or any sign of encouragement for a job well done or a great play in sports. Dad would pull over his car on the way to work and watch my bother and I play football etc. but never commented on it and if we looked over at the car he would drive away.

Dad worked to three in the morning closing up the tavern and would sleep till 10:30 AM. We had to be quiet until then during the summer, that was very hard for young boys! He would get home for supper, sit on the couch till 9:00 PM, shave again and head back down to the tavern for his second shift.
The longs hours standing gave him constant leg pains. My sister use to rub in legs in the evening with Bengay. When she left to get married I took over the duties. The boys in our group would laugh at me because I could not get the smell off my hands. This was the only physical contact I had with my Dad.

I recall one time that my Dad set on the back porch and we played catch for about five minutes. I can still see this. Even though my Dad ran a tavern or bar tended for over forty years he was not a big drinker. I only saw him drunk one time and recall the smile on his face and saw a happy man. I only heard my Dad use foul language once, it was in front of my Mom and was instigated by something that happened at the tavern. I was in my teens then and it was the only time I ever challenged my Dad. I told him I did not want to hear him talk like that in front of Mom. He never responded to me at that time, he never said a foul word in my presence again.

I was a gifted student, rank 13th among 540 in our class. Everyone I associated with in school was headed off to college. None of my three older siblings went to college, it was never mentioned as an option. I never had any idea if it was something we could afford, I was clueless. I had an interest in electronics and talked at the supper table about enlisting for an education. I got nods. I turned 18 just before graduation, enlisted in the Air Force and announced it to the family, three days later my Dad said he would pay my way to college. I think this is only time that in my eyes my Dad failed me. He wasn't paying attention, he was tired, he wasn't there for me until he got scared that his son was heading off to war. He was late.

In my third year in the Air Force, 1969, while I was participating in missions in the war, my Dad sold his business, he was 57. He had a heart attack three days later. He survived and found out that he was born with a bad heart. His heart was a major contributor to his lack of energy along with all of the long hours of work that made him tired.

When I got out of the service a year later I lived at home for a year. Dad and I became good friends, built things together, watch ball games, played cards and talked to each other. He loved the choice I made for a wife and treated her with fatherly love. He had the time and the energy now to be a father, a friend.

What have I learned from my father? I learned how to be a good provider. I learned that hard work was a good thing. I learned indirectly that my time with my own kids was precious. I had those walks with my kids. I praised my kids, I scolded them. I played games with them and went camping with them. I hugged them, I hugged them a lot. I worked very hard, I had many long overtime hours, I had service calls at 2 AM and worked outdoors with temperatures of over 100 and below -30 degrees. My Dad provided, I provided. When I drink, I smile and I am a happy man. My Dad did the best he could, that is what I strive for.

Thanks Dad.