Father’s Day

In addition to the good looking boy and his dad,

note the colorful and beautiful altar cloths

Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there. My own father has been gone over forty years. He walks on in my dreams and lives in my heart, a proud Scot. I wish I had a digital picture. I am now just a month shy of the age he was when he died of heart failure a couple of days after surgery. Weird thought. But I owe him for many things—faith, a work ethic, a tin ear, the love of reading, and that Scottish heritage of which I’m so proud. As I age I look more and more like him and his sisters. Were she living, one of his sisters would tell you that’s not a good thing.

In recent years, I’ve enjoyed watching my sons and sons-in-law grow into their roles as fathers. Each has his own style and parents in his own way, but they are kind and loving and are raising great kids. I’m a big fan of fathers.

We celebrated Father’s Day by going to early church because Jacob was an acolyte. I’d forgotten how few people attend the nine o’clock in the summer. The church was still empty, so I stood to see if I could spot Betty and her family in the back. To my astonishment, the acolytes were coming down the aisle to start the service. I quickly sat back down—wouldn’t do to embarrass Jacob.

I carried a can of corned beef in my purse to church. No, I didn’t expect a hunger crisis. I adore corned beef hash (it’s a great vehicle for ketchup), so I asked Jordan to bring some from the grocery. She couldn’t find it, brought canned corn beef which came in a can suspiciously shaped like the cans of Spam from my childhood. I took it to church to put in one of the bins of donated food, but we never saw one. Long story short, I came home with my corned beef which takes up precious space in my pantry drawer. That’s right—a deep drawer is the only pantry I have.

We celebrated Christian with brunch at The Tavern, a favorite of all of us. Jacob likes the mac and cheese. I had migas because I’ve never in my life had them and thought I should try. Won’t try again—I’m not that fond of corn tortillas. It was okay—I had peanut butter toast when I woke up (at 6:30 thank you) this morning.

Busy week ahead. I want to keep writing my thousand words a day; have lunch and happy hour plans tomorrow—for the latter, Subie and I are running away from home, just the two of us. Dinner plans two nights, a lunch guest one day, and Jacob’s birthday. The actual birthday is Tuesday, and Jordan will oversee a party that will include baseball or basketball in the school yard across the street, followed by swimming and, I think, pizza. Friday night there will be a potluck for adults in Jacob’s social circle—don’t laugh. It’s a bunch of people.

So blessed to have such a full life.