“When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around.  But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.”  – Mark Twain

I was going through my documents on the computer recently and found a collection of Father’s Day stories, poems and quotes. I must have been saving them for a newspaper article, but I don’t think I ever wrote it. I think it very appropriate with Father’s Day on Sunday to make a blog post out of it.

How it began:

Did you know that we have Sonora Dodd, of Washington, to credit for Father’s Day? She thought of the idea for Father’s Day while listening to a Mother’s Day sermon in 1909.

Sonora wanted a special day to honor her father, William Smart. Smart, who was a Civil War veteran and was widowed when his wife died while giving birth to their sixth child. Mr. Smart was left to raise the newborn and his other five children by himself on a rural farm in eastern Washington state.

After Sonora became an adult she realized the selflessness her father had shown in raising his children as a single parent. It was her father that made all the parental sacrifices and was, in the eyes of his daughter, a courageous, selfless, and loving man. Sonora’s father was born in June, so she chose to hold the first Father’s Day celebration in Spokane, Washington on the 19th of June, 1910.

President Calvin Coolidge, in 1924, supported the idea of a national Father’s Day. Then in 1966 President Lyndon Johnson signed a presidential proclamation declaring the 3rd Sunday of June as Father’s Day. President Richard Nixon signed the law which finally made it permanent in 1972.

Here’s one by the late, great Erma Bombeck:

 When God Created Fathers

When the good Lord was creating fathers, He started with a tall frame. And a female angel nearby said, “What kind of father is that? If you’re going to make children so close to the ground, why have you put fathers up so high? He won’t be able to shoot marbles without kneeling, tuck a child in bed without bending, or even kiss a child without a lot of stooping.”

And God smiled and said, “Yes, but if I make him child size, who would children have to look up to?”

And when God made a father’s hands, they were large and sinewy.

And the angel shook her head sadly and said, “Do You know what You’re doing? Large hands are clumsy. They can’t manage diaper pins, small buttons, rubber bands on pony tails or even remove splinters caused by baseball bats.”

God smiled and said, “I know, but they’re large enough to hold everything a small boy empties from his pockets at the end of a day…yet small enough to cup a child’s face.”

Then God molded long, slim legs and broad shoulders.

The angel nearly had a heart attack. “Boy, this is the end of the week, all right,” she clucked. “Do You realize You just made a father without a lap? How is he going to pull a child close to him without the kid falling between his legs?”

God smiled and said, “A mother needs a lap. A father needs strong shoulders to pull a sled, balance a boy on a bicycle or hold a sleepy head on the way home from the circus.”

God was in the middle of creating two of the largest feet anyone had ever seen when the angel could contain herself no longer. “That’s not fair. Do You honestly think those large boats are going to dig out of bed early in the morning when the baby cries? Or walk through a small birthday party without crushing at least three of the guests?”

And God smiled and said, “They’ll work. You’ll see. They’ll support a small child who wants to “ride a horse to Banbury Cross” or scare off mice at the summer cabin, or display shoes that will be a challenge to fill.”

God worked throughout the night, giving the father few words, but a firm authoritative voice; eyes that see everything, but remain calm and tolerant.

Finally, almost as an afterthought, He added tears. Then He turned to the angel and said, “Now are you satisfied that he can love as much as a mother?”

And the angel shutteth up!

And a poem by Helen Steiner Rice:

Fathers are Wonderful People

Fathers are wonderful people
Too little understood,
And we do not sing their praises
As often as we should…

For, somehow, Father seems to be
The man who pays the bills,
While Mother binds up little hurts
And nurses all our ills…

And Father struggles daily
To live up to “HIS IMAGE”
As protector and provider
And “hero or the scrimmage”…

And perhaps that is the reason
We sometimes get the notion,
That Fathers are not subject
To the thing we call emotion,

But if you look inside Dad’s heart,
Where no one else can see
You’ll find he’s sentimental
And as “soft” as he can be…

But he’s so busy every day
In the grueling race of life,
He leaves the sentimental stuff
To his partner and his wife…

But Fathers are just WONDERFUL
In a million different ways,
And they merit loving compliments
And accolade of praise,

For the only reason Dad aspires
To fortune and success
Is to make the family proud of him
And to bring them happiness…

And like OUR HEAVENLY FATHER,
He’s a guardian and a guide,
Someone that we can count on
To be ALWAYS ON OUR SIDE.

And, finally, because this is my blog, I’d like to put my message to my dad out in cyberspace. You never know, it may help him hear it!

“Happy Father’s Day, Dad! I miss you and think of you everyday! When I see you again, and after we are through with all our greetings, please make me some of your homemade peanut butter fudge. It’s the best in the world!”