If you haven’t already wished your father a happy Father’s Day, do it right now.

Go ahead, put down the paper or step away from your computer screen and give him a call. Better yet, if he’s close by, pay him a visit.

Since I can’t be in North Carolina today, I’ll give mine a call.

I hate not being there in person to wish my dad a happy Father’s Day, because a phone call and a card just doesn’t seem like enough compared to all the things he did for me as a child or even as an adult.

I thought about that a lot this week as I was preparing to write this column.

I am pretty lucky to have grown up with a father like mine. He wasn’t a “TV” dad, the kind who always knew exactly what to say and always gave a moral lesson at the end of the day. He was, and still is, about as blue-collar as a man could be, working with his hands to make a living as long as I’ve been alive, and probably longer.

He wasn’t college educated, but he is smart. He never struck it rich, but I consider him a success.

He was great at all the things dads are supposed to be great at and as I tried to look back and recall examples, plenty flooded into my mind.

I remember my father teaching me to tie my own shoes. I remember him letting me sneak into his room at night after an especially vivid nightmare about a bear in my closet.

I remember the first time I rode a rollercoaster with a loop. I was way too scared to go on it alone or with my friends. But with my dad sitting next to me, it didn’t feel as scary. I’ve been a thrill-seeker ever since.

I remember my dad explaining to me the Tooth Fairy wasn’t real following my discovery of money under my pillow before I fell asleep.

He’s taken way too many photos of me, from birthday parties to Christmas mornings. He helped with nearly every single school project from kindergarten through eighth grade. Special mention goes to my third-grade astronomy project in which we had to create an alien from another planet.

He went to plenty of my school band performances, from my middle school years when we sounded terrible, to my high school years when we won awards.

He helped move me into my first apartment when I started college. He helped load the moving truck when I moved to the Tri-State.

The list could go on and on.

Parents don’t often don’t get a lot of credit for the many little things they do throughout their children’s lives. There must be a million other things my father did for me to make my life better or happier that I’ll never even know about.

I supposed that’s what being a parent is all about.

So today, I would just like to say thank you to my dad for always being someone I could count on, someone who I can always be proud of and someone who was always proud of me.

 

Michelle Goodman is the news editor at The Tribune. To reach her, call 740-532-1441 ext. 12 or by email at michelle.goodman@irontontribune.com.