“He Will Come Back, Won’t He?”

            Yesterday, my oldest daughter, Haleigh, left for Italy. She is going to study abroad with the program from Harding University. After she left, I felt the saddest emotions I have felt since… well, since we dropped her off at college back in 2011.

            I always enjoyed the writings of the late Erma Bombeck. Years ago, when I was a boy or a young teenager, she related a story that psychologists, writers, and even Ronald Reagan have shared with their audiences. It seemed so apropos to what I was feeling that I thought I would share it with you. Warning, you might want to grab a box of Kleenexes before you read!

            When Mike was three he wanted a sandbox, and his father said, “There goes the yard. We’ll have kids over here day and night and they’ll throw sand and it’ll kill the grass for sure.”

            And Mike’s mother said, “It’ll come back.”

            When Mike was five, he wanted a jungle gym with swings that would take his breath away and bars to take him to the summit.  And his father said, “Good grief!  I’ve seen those things in back yards, and do you know what the yards look like?  Mud holes in a pasture!  Kids digging their gym shoes in the ground.  It’ll kill the grass.”

            And Mike’s mother said, “It’ll come back.”

            Between breaths, when Daddy was blowing up the plastic swimming pool, he warned, “They’ll track water everywhere and they’ll have a million water fights and you won’t be able to take out the garbage without stepping in mud up to your neck and we’ll have the only brown lawn on the block.”

            And Mike’s mother said, “It’ll come back.”

            When Mike was twelve, he volunteered his yard for a camp-out.  As the boys hoisted the tents and drove in the spikes, Mike’s father said, “You know those tents and all those big feet are going to trample down every single blade of grass, don’t you?  Don’t bother to answer.  I know what you’re going to say – ‘It’ll come back’.”

            Just when it looked as if the new seed might take root, winter came and the sled runners beat it into ridges.  And Mike’s father shook his head and said, “I never asked for much in life – only a patch of grass.”

            And Mike’s mother said, “It’ll come back.”

            Now Mike is eighteen.  The lawn this year is beautiful – green and alive and rolling out like a carpet along the drive where gym shoes had trod; along the garage where bicycles used to fall; and around the flower beds where little boys used to dig with teaspoons.

            But Mike’s father doesn’t notice.  He looks anxiously beyond the yard and asks, “Mike will come back, won’t he?”

           

            Next time you feel irritated with your children, remember Mike’s dad.

The Failed Son

         It is tough for a father to have a failure for a son. Such was the case for William, who lived near the town of Dearborn.

         William was farmer. William’s eldest son, Henry, always seemed to suffer from what we today call attention deficit disorder. He was not much help.

         As the child grew, he seemed an even greater disappointment. Farmer fathers typically yearn for their oldest son to stay and work the family farm. “Someday, all of this will be yours!” However, with little education, Henry left home for good at age 16.

         He wandered and for years never seemed to be able to settle down. The father wrote, "Henry is not much of a farmer. He's a tinkerer."

         William Ford lived near Dearborn, Michigan. The name of William’s son was Henry. Chances are, because of Henry, your lips utter William’s last name at least once a week.

*Source: APRIL 1865 by Jay Winik

Daddy, what is electricity?

I can relate to the father who was walking with his young son. The boy asked, "Daddy, what is electricity?"

         “Well now, I don't really know," said the father. I never knew much about electricity. All I know about it is that it makes things run."

         A little farther on, the boy said, "Daddy, how does gasoline make the automobiles go?"

         The father answered, "Well, I don't know. I don't know much about motors."          Several more questions followed with much the same result; until at last, the boy said, "Gee, I hope you don't mind my asking so many questions."

         "Not at all, son," said his father. "You go right ahead and ask. How else would you learn any thing?”

The Daughter Who Booed Her Father

            Fatherhood can be tough.

            Sparky Anderson was one of Major League Baseball's all-time great managers. He had a nickname, "Captain Hook." He was given that nickname because he so often went out to the mound and pulled his pitchers from the ball game.

            Pitchers hated it. The fans did not like it much either. Most the time, they would boo whenever Sparky would come out of the dugout.

            One night, Sparky removed the pitcher and was booed heavily by the crowd. Later, he found out his own daughter, Shirley, had booed him.

            "Why would you boo your father?" he asked her, surprised.

            "I didn't want them to know you're my father," she honestly replied.

            Fatherhood can be tough.

  

Source: THE LONG BALL by Tom Adelman

“HE’S NO FATHER!”

            In honor of Father’s Day, I want to pass along a humorous story. A Protestant clergyman had moved to a new town. His apparel was not unlike that of a Roman Catholic priest.

            One day, the reverend was walking down the street, and he happened to pass some little Catholic boys. They tipped their hats to the reverend and said in unison, “Good evening, Father.”

            After the clergyman had passed, one of the boys, who had not spoken, said in disgust, “Father! He’s no father—he’s got three kids!”

            Taking those words out of context, and speaking to those of us who are males with children, may it never be said, “He’s no father.”