Father's Day. I am grateful for my father. While my mother modeled the things I did not want to be, my father gave me the blueprint for living a life based on optimism, guts and gumption.
He wasn't perfect - not by a long shot. But he loved me and his mantra was "No worries!"
A few years before he died - and this is going back a ways now - I flew out to Toronto on Father's Day to surprise him. I remember walking into the den where he was chatting with a friend (who was in on the surprise) and he looked at me first in disbelief. Then he started to cry. That was the second time in my life I saw tears in his eyes. The other time was when Sparky, his dog, died. If he held me in as much esteem as Sparky, that's saying quite a lot.
By today's standards, he wasn't a "great" dad. He didn't take us to soccer games or get down on the floor and play with us. But he built a doll house for me, even making all the tiny little chairs, tables and sofas. And he even did the upholstery and installed a battery so that the house had real lights. It was a dream house.
Best of all, he set the example: nothing could stop him. There was always a silver lining. Twice he was told by doctors that he would never walk again. Both times he said, "watch me."
He loved his family.
He was a good man.
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