To those who don’t celebrate Father’s Day

Dear Fellow Journalers,

There are some men among us, our neighbors, friends, bosses, deacons at our church, who cannot celebrate Father’s Day. Some have no father to honor. Either they died before they were born, or they died in war or simply left. Some of these men had fathers who were abusive or went to jail.

Some have children who simply could care less, unless of course they want something. One man has grandchildren he sees once every 6 months. The rest of the time they ignore his emails, tweets, cell phone calls. He watches them grow up on Facebook surrounded by the other set of grandparents.

Some of these men are fathers of estranged adult children. One the face of it, if asked, many of these men will “blow off” the holiday as if it is just another Sunday. But many will admit that the day they dread is the day after. While many Dad’s will recount what their children and/or grandchildren gave them or how they celebrated, these fathers are left with nothing to say.

While I am no expert and only a compassionate wife and grandmother, I offer these solutions found in research articles.

  1. If you’re affected by someone’s comments (and keep in mind, if you didn’t share your circumstances, they aren’t being rude, they just don’t know) have an exit strategy.
  2. Contact someone to talk to. One father actually sits down every year and writes his son a letter. He can’t mail it as he doesn’t have an address, but he writes anyway and saves it in a folder on his laptop.
  3. Do something fun. Remember, if your spouse is the mother who doesn’t celebrate Mother’s Day, go see a movie or have a special home cooked meal and snuggle on the couch.

Fathers, like mothers, have special roles to play in their children’s life. Some of the men who can’t celebrate will tell you how they did everything they could to raise their children right. They sacrificed, worked long hours or took on a second job, were attentive, tried to make every game or recital, who wanted their children to have a better life than they did. They didn’t give up, until all hope was gone, and yet, late at night, when they think no one will hear, they shed a tear for their son or daughter and pray for their safety, their comfort, their happiness and their souls.

To those fathers, you can only do the best you can do. The rest is up to God.


Father’s Day

Dear Fellow Journalers,

You are a product of your environment, your education, your background and your family life. No matter what, you are still part of your core family and so today I wish all the father’s in the USA a Happy Father’s Day.

Dad’s Promise

“He promised us that everything would be okay. I was a child, but I knew that everything would not be okay. That did not make my father a liar. It made him my father.” Jonathan Foer “Extremely loud and incredibly close.”

My Dad


Dear Fellow Journalers,

In honor of Father’s Day, G weighs in:



Poking around in my closet the other day, I came upon my Dad’s cufflinks.  I’m almost ashamed to say I haven’t seen or worn them in about five years. Since they were Dad’s, I should treat them with more respect.


Now you have to understand something about my Dad. Dad was a helicopter mechanic, and a great one at that. But Dad HATED getting “dressed up” for any occasion. A tie to Dad was like a noose, a coat like a straight jacket. Dad had only ONE dress white shirt. Mom bought it for him. This shirt had “French cuffs,” requiring cuff links. Mom also bought them. She bought them at a jewelry store, and paid good money for them. They are silver, square, and have a star like design on them called a “compass rose.” Dad hated the whole idea, but wore them when and if he must.


I think I’ve told you Dad was only 5’9”, and of small build. This meant that I was Dad’s size when I was about 11 years old. Now I, unlike Dad, had been wearing white dress shirts and ties since second grade. (Catholic school uniforms) Now I thought that this French cuff shirt was “COOL” so cool, that to this day, I wear French cuffs 98% of the time, One day, while headed for some special occasion, I asked Dad if I could wear his shirt and links to the affair. He agreed, but Mom wasn’t happy about it.


Well, the shirt and the links made it home in one piece. I then had earned the right to borrow them on a regular basis. Dad was actually relieved that I wore them instead of him, and often suggested it. He even told me to keep it in MY closet. Mom still wasn’t happy.


The problem with being a growing boy is that you grow VERY fast! Within a few months, I had outgrown the shirt. Returning it to Dad, he promptly declared it “worn out”, and threw it out. (While Mom was out of course!) End of the story.


When Dad died in 1986, possession of the cuff links officially passed to me, although I always had them. I wore them weekly until about five or so years ago, when others supplanted them.


So why this story? I am CERTAIN that you have some piece of jewelry SOMEWHERE that once belonged to someone you loved. GO FIND IT NOW! Put it on, and remember. I promise it will make you as happy as me!

Thanks G for sharing,


Happy Father’s Day




The following post for all Dad’s is one of a “G” classic:


Some time ago, a friend of mine punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper.

Money was tight and he became infuriated when the small child tried to decorate a box for Fathers Day.

Nevertheless the little girl brought the gift to her father the next morning and said “This is for you Daddy.”

 He was embarrassed by his earlier over reaction. But his anger flared again when he found that the box was empty. Then he yelled at her, “Don’t you know that when you give someone a present there’s supposed to be something inside of it?”

The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and said, “Oh Daddy it’s not empty. I blew kisses into the box. All for you Daddy.” The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl and he begged her forgiveness.

My friend told me that he kept that gold box near his bed for years. Whenever he was discouraged he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there. In a very real sense each of us has been given a gold container filled with unconditional love and kisses. There is no more precious possession anyone could hold.


G  6/13/14


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