My Hero

This is my dad.  He is my hero.

He gave me wings when he told me I could do whatever I wanted in life.

Thanks, Dad, those are powerful words by which to live.

My hero is brilliant, kind, reserved, emotional, dedicated, and resourceful.

He has consistently demonstrated, throughout his life,

what it means to be a good person, a good husband, and a good father.

Beyond all of those truly remarkable qualities,

my father has displayed a lifelong passion for building and woodworking.

The body of his work is beyond substantial.

Early on, his work took on a practical form

My dad built this house with my mom when they were first married. 

Mom, Dad, my little brother, Mayor and I lived there for 5 years.

More than 50 years ago, long before prefabricated houses were popular,

my father built this house at his workshop

and hauled it on the back of a huge truck,
over two miles, to this site. 

He sold it.

It sits happily today on the same site, improved and enlarged.

As children, Mayor, Big Bad John, Pretty Boy, and I

enjoyed the best play projects on the block.

We had a two story Fort Apache, hand built by dad.

We swam in a wooden pool, complete with elevated deck, hand built with panels, by dad.

We spent the night in an A-frame playhouse,

 made from the left-over disassembled pool panels, built by dad.

When I grew up, married, and settled down to live and raise children in this little town,

I frequently called upon dad to help me with projects. 

He was always eager to help out, which translated means,

he did most of the work,

 while I dreamed a lot and helped a little.

He and I built this entrance to my fledgling vegetable garden.

The fence Better Half and I were intending to replace this summer,

 was originally a Dad and me project.

We dug holes for the posts with a post hole digger

and secured the fencing sections to them.

Part of my reluctance to replace the fence stems from the fond memories

I have from building it.

When I decided to add decorative moulding to my dining room,

I called upon Dad for his expertise. 

We spent back-breaking, no, knee-breaking days,

installing these beautiful mouldings.

He shared with me his knowledge of miter cuts.

Dad began to explore the more decorative side of wood-working after he retired.

He spent hours constructing these fabulous trains. 

It is one of my proud possessions.

For Christmas, a number of years back, Sis, my sister-in-law,

 gave my brothers and me identical packages.

Each package contained this long forgotten abacus.

The abacuses were built by dad (with considerable help from mom)

for our elementary school.

My dad made the frames from poplar,

using coat hangers on which to string the beads.

I remember the smell of the varnish on the frames as they hung to dry.

The abacuses were wheeled from room to room in the school

on a wheeled cart, also built by dad.

One of the best Christmas presents ever.

Dad's talents took a nautical turn.  He crafted these beautiful sailing vessels,

with mom contributing the sails.

When I took on the challenge of creating a butterfly garden a couple of years ago,

Dad and Mom helped me to create a pre-schooler sized bridge. 

 Here is Dad standing beside the completed bridge.

and here is the bridge in the garden, published in a post from 2010.

Year before last, when Orion and The One announced their plans to marry, I asked dad to help me design supports for some cardboard concrete tubes I hoped to turn into pillars.

He just shook his head, smiled, and, as always, took up the challenge.

He, mom, Mayor, Sis, and I built the supports.

They supported the lanterns which decorated the dance floor.

Here is the remarkable man I am pleased to call Dad,

 at home, in his workshop,

working his magic with wood.

Dad, you really are my hero.

I admire you and love you. 

I cannot begin to thank you

for your decades of support, love and encouragement.

Happy Father's Day!