They say that from the instant he lays eyes on her, a father adores his daughter. Whoever she grows up to be, she is always to him that little girl in pigtails. She makes him feel like Christmas. In exchange, he makes a secret promise not to see the awkward teenage years, the mistakes she makes or the secrets she keeps.
|My dad, age 3?, one and only photo of him as a child|
Scanning is giving me lots of problems today. I went to Staples and still not happy.
My father, on the left, holding Yours Truly, and my Godfather holding his first born, in April 1955. That June would have been my dad's first Father's Day. Not sure if it was celebrated back then.
My maternal grandpa, this was Easter Sunday 1946. He had no medical conditions, but at age 82 was hit by a car, survived the accident, but went down hill afterwards.
And this is me, age 6 (?) opening Christmas presents with my favorite uncle.
I had received a child's dinner set with dishes and little tiny stem ware. Who knew there would be such a thing as blogging, or even the Internet? Much simpler times, and certainly happier times.
I just wanted to acknowledge the wonderful men in my life. And I truly believe they are still looking out for me. I love them all, especially you, Dad. Thanks for everything.