My Dad

My Dad is, I think, the smartest man I know. This isn’t to say that he doesn’t have ideas I disagree with, because we do disagree. No, Dad is the smartest man I know because he knows history and physics. My Dad can explain quantum mechanics. My Dad is a dairy farmer who never went to college, but he was always reading.

My first memories of Dad are of him reading to me. According to him, I taught myself to read and then never looked back. He supported my writing before I supported myself. If I listened to him when I was 13, I’d be ages ahead of where I am now as far as ability is concerned.

Dad taught me and my brother how to fish. There’s one day in particular that sticks in my mind. It was early spring, April I think, and I had just gotten a new hat for Easter. The wind took it off my head, landing it in the middle of spring fed swamp. To say I was upset is the mild version of the crying and wailing that must have happened. Dad waded out into the water, almost up to his underarms to get my hat. My Dad is a superhero. At least in the eyes of the six-year-old girl waiting on the rock pile. We went home immediately upon his return.

Dad taught us to shoot. He hoped that we would both be hunters. I decided that no, I didn’t want to go hunting. That doesn’t mean much. I can still shoot well. Dad taught me to dress out a turkey, and I can field dress a deer. Dad made sure we would always be able to survive, even when times were at their hardest.

I love my Dad. I don’t tell him as much as I should. He is a great man, who made sure I could take care of myself, even if I’ll always be his little girl. I called him earlier to say it over the phone, but I think getting it down to be there forever sounds even better. Happy Father’s Day Dad. I love you.


One Response to “My Dad”

  1. THANK YOU RACHEL and i’m still here if you ever need me

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