Father's Day

My daddy wasn't perfect; he'd be the first to tell you that.  But I remember sitting on his lap while he read the Sunday comics to me, and I loved it:  I must have been five years old or younger, because after that I could read for myself.

I remember how my Daddy thought all my jokes were funny.

I recall a time when I had an appointment at the beauty shop.  I walked there from school, and Mom picked me up, and when we got home, Daddy was crying because I hadn't come home on the school bus.  Mother forgot to tell him about the appointment, so he thought I'd been kidnapped.

Daddy had a temper.  He really didn't care what folks thought of him.  And "stuff" didn't matter much to him.  I didn't inherit the temper, but I got lots of the other traits from him.  Ask Cliff.

Nope, my father wasn't perfect.  But he thought I was the greatest.  He loved his other two kids, too.  He was just right for me.