My kids come from a line of really good fathers. My husband and I were blessed with incredible roll models. Iconic American men.
My dad grew up in Little Rock, Arkansas during segregation. He got a football scholarship to the University of Michigan, where he met and married my mom. He went on to various endeavors as I mentioned in a previous post: professional football player, assistant college dean, probation officer, logger...He read me stories every night, changing voices for each character. He took me on walks by the ocean, bought me expensive shoes we couldn't really afford, and wrote me encouraging notes before volleyball games and important tests. He is everything a girl needs her dad to be.
Rowdy's dad grew up during the Great Depression, on a homestead in Wyoming. His family gathered and broke wild horses in the Red Desert. They survived on their own skill at living off the land. He went to World War II and served on Okinawa. He came back to Wyoming and worked as a cowboy - later he went on to build many of the roads you'll drive on if you ever visit that great state. He was everything a boy needs in a father, everything he needs to become a great man himself. He passed away last year. It was a great loss to all of us. I like to think he left a great legacy though, because his son is growing some very fine boys himself. We celebrated him yesterday: