For my dad on Father's Day, I wrote a poem and framed it with two great pictures of me when I was younger, and therefore cuter. Not a dry eye in the house besides myself (because I teared when I wrote it earlier) and my sister (because she had read it earlier as well). Some of these are specific things of interest to my dad, who often takes my sister and I (either together or separate) on father-daughter trips, who has a "sick blanket" whose magic healing powers are said to heal all sickness and is still used today, who broke his leg at the top of a mountain hike in Tahoe and still climbed the whole way down, who convinced me when I was very young that he was Tiger Woods, and believes himself to be similar to Jack Bauer, and is obsessed with The Deadliest Catch show on Discovery channel. This goes out to my dad.
To My Dad
Trips of the father-daughter kind
To field-trip slips often signed,
This is what they had in mind
When they think of the word father.
A man who does any part
To make sure his girls know
They have his heart,
This surely is a father.
A man who works hard to play hard too,
The man who taught you to tie your shoe,
Who has magic sick blankets when you have the flu,
That man must be a father.
The man who showed you the world on his shoulders,
And helped you with all the pains of getting older,
And with a broken leg climbed a mountain of boulders,
This man should be called father.
He is Tiger Woods, he is Jack Bauer,
He is a crab fisherman whose pots soak for hours,
He is a man who enjoys a good happy hour,
He is a good and fun father.
Not all daddies stick around
And as I age I have found
That I have the best Daddio around
And I am proud to call him my father.
