- Gloria Naylor
When I was a Girl Scout at the ripe old age of 10, my Dad was 45 years old, and had lots of gray in his hair. I guess his job as a New York City fireman helped contribute to that situation. He was at least 10 years older than the fathers of my schoolmates and the kids I played with around the neighborhood.
|Found my old GS sash looking for something else!|
|My Dad, age 27, Upstate New York|
|Yours Truly, 8 months, with my dad|
After a round of introductions, we were put in teams of 2 Girl Scouts/2 Fathers. I was with V. and her dad. I looked at V. and with a big sigh, said, "I'll keep score." V.'s father went first. Then V., then my Dad. And my Dad gets the first strike........and another strike....... strike after strike...............other fathers were coming over to shake his hand and pat him on the back. V.'s father was hootin' and hollerin'. V. was looking at me with her mouth open but no words came out.
He proceeded to kick butt that day in that bowling alley. And then it happened. What would be my finest father/daughter moment. It sealed for me what I had somehow known all along, but was still too young to express, that yeah, people take note, that's MY Dad.
The drive home was a lot different. For one, I didn't shut up. Two, I was holding a trophy. Three, I had a heart filled with memories that would last me a lifetime. My father set the standard very high for me where men are concerned. They don't make them like that anymore. To this day the song "Daddy's Little Girl" still makes me cry......... and I somehow lost track of that darn trophy.
Here's to all dads on Father's Day, wherever they may be. For those Dads alive and well, when the Mrs. (or daughter or gdau) is pestering you to have your various checkups, GO. Your family needs you, perhaps more than you know.
I will be joining Seasonal Sundays at The Tablescaper.