My Father's Son

For many years, my father was vastly outnumbered by the women in our family - he had a wife, a mother, a mother-in-law, a sister-in-law and a daughter. Even his cat and dog were female. The Y chromosomes were vastly under-represented.

Being an only child, I am the son my father never had. What that meant was that for my 5th birthday I got a bike and a bow and arrow set. I happily went around shooting everything in sight. I also learned to fish, fire a b.b. gun, and know the difference between a ratchet and a drill and which side of the hammer to use.

My father is a graphic artist from the "old school," a man who creates signs as well as designing them. One of my most prevalent childhood memories is helping him mount letters in our basement workshop.

Certainly there were areas my dad couldn't help - the social gossip of my friends never interested him, fashion and shoes bored him to tears, and when a boy broke my heart it was my mother who talked me off the ledge. But as I think of my dad today, it is with smile of gratitude for giving me the skills, and more importantly, the confidence to refurbish our patio all by myself.







Here's hoping he'll get to sit in and enjoy it soon. Happy Father's Day!