parents
The boundless love a parent has for their child is matched only by their capacity to embarrass them.
Subtle Disposition
The father, daughter dynamic can range from one of the most complicated, intricate or beautiful relationships that one could have. Some are lucky to have all three in a lifetime, some from birth and some so much later in life, if at all. My relationship with my father walks the tightrope between complicated and intricate, one could nickname it “delicate” even.
By R.A. Moseley4 years ago in Families
Dads Are No Joke
They broke the mold. Seriously! Paul Anthony DeLeo was a one and only. He worked hard as an English teacher during the school year and an entrepreneur who ran a painting company through the summer. He married my mother when I was 5 years old, so technically, he was my stepfather. No one outside the family would have ever known this. Thanks to this man, the absence of my biological father was rarely felt. He taught me everything from how to clean smelt, child labor inequities, the value of electricity, food and water, and to always use proper English!
By Kimber Jones4 years ago in Families
Big Red
Daddy’s Rig Big Red was Daddy’s rig: an almost new Kenworth Special Edition big rig with leather seats, new CB, brand new 8-track player, and best of all, a full-size sleeper cabin that allowed Daddy to rest when on the road. Mama’s view on Big Red was that it took Daddy away from home too much. Not a week went by that Mama didn’t beg Daddy to find a job in town so they could build up some credit, maybe save enough money for a down payment on a house they could call their own. She dreamed of being able to plant a garden in a yard and paint the walls peach. But driving was all Daddy knew, and to him, Big Red was his salvation from working for someone else. Mama said it just took discipline and Daddy was just being lazy and stubborn. When we reminisce these days, Mama takes back the lazy and stubborn and thinks instead that Daddy was just running from the stern and controlling upbringing he received from his own father. I can’t know, but for me and my brother, Big Red meant opportunities to see all those names on our Dad’s Rand McNally map and a chance to be in the presence of our hero father.
By Shana Murphy4 years ago in Families
My Dad
My father was an over the road truck driver when I was growing up. He was home maybe one night a week. We never had family dinners or family vacations. He never attended any school awards ceremony I had or a school play that I was cast in. He never went with us to church. People always thought I never had a father, no one asked about him, no one mentioned his name. It was assumed he was just like all the other MIA dads. Long gone and long forgotten by the family.
By Kristi Flowers4 years ago in Families
Dad's hands
My dad's hands are hard working hands they are hard and calloused. They were not always that way. when he was young they were soft and smooth. Dad's hands were made for hard work, he worked hard at a young age helping with chores. Dad's hands got stung by bee's as he helped his father with colonies of bee's
By Craig Maxwell4 years ago in Families
Dad you're a mess, but I love you
My dad isn’t the perfect man, he wasn’t always there and he didn’t do everything I wanted him to do but he did the best he could. Growing up I had to realize that not everyone’s best is good enough; some people make a million and one mistakes before they ever truly learn the levels of love. There’s unconditional love and there’s conditioned love; my dad taught me what conditioned love was. He didn’t have a regular conversation with me about it, but he showed me with his actions. This lesson wasn’t an easy one to learn, but I had to learn it so I knew which type of love felt best. Personally, I prefer unconditional love; it’s not artificial.
By Isis Lyons 4 years ago in Families
