Just An Ordinary Father

Before I get started, let me wish each and every father, grandfather, and great–grandfather the happiest of Father’s Days June 16th, 2024.

I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned my own father. He was pretty ordinary on the surface, working class, and loved his family.

Here is what no one knew:

Born in 1924 he (and my mother) grew up in the heart of the Great Depression; there was no work, very little money, and even less food. He left the Kansas farm and school at 13 (lied about his age) to work in the WPA – Work Progress Administration created by President Franklin Roosevelt in 1935. At least he could send a little money home that way for his 4 older brothers and older sister. I can’t be sure he ever attended 7th or 8th grade.

Married at 18 he was drafted into World War II two months later. Overseas for 7 years, including 3 years of service with displaced persons in Germany, he returned home to find his wife had secretly divorced him and remarried. He had a surprise son (my half–brother) that she didn’t bother to tell him about.

He married my mother in 1949 and began a second family. Jobs were hard to come by but by now he was a pretty good auto mechanic and supported his family as a service station manager and mechanic. At least there was food and they lived in the back of the gas station. In the years that followed, Dad got on with the Santa Fe Railroad where he worked for the next 37 years; one year before he passed in 1980 at the age of 57. If you are counting, that was 44 years ago.

My father was and still is the most brilliant man I have ever known. I never remember him paying a tradesman for anything; plumbing, electrical, mechanical, cabinets, and furniture making, he did it all himself. I remember saying 1,000 times, “Dad, how do you know all of this stuff?” His answer was always the same, life’s hard, pay attention and figure it out. When he had a few hours, Dad restored antique cars and trucks, mostly model A’s and T’s. How he knew the stuff he knew before computers and the internet, I’ll never know. He converted a school bus into a motorhome and drove it thousands of miles. He eventually sold it and made enough to buy a first class Winnebago.

He loved his family and we all loved him. He wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect for us. My Dad was just an ordinary father on the outside, to us he was Superman. I miss him every day. I hope my kids see me kind of like that when I’m gone.

Remember that wherever you go, there you are.

Here is my inspiration for this message:

(Exod 20:12 [NASB]) “Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be prolonged in the land which the LORD your God gives you.

(Prov 17:6 [NASB]) Grandchildren are the crown of old men, And the glory of sons is their fathers.

(3John 1:4 [NASB]) I have no greater joy than this, to hear of my children walking in the truth.