Children

Daughter's Day Not Father's Day

While I normally aim at relating tales of photos taken, I want on this Father’s Day to dig a little deeper into my own personal being. To my own and continuing tenure of being a father. Usually I only include images captured by me, but for obvious reasons that is not possible for this article. For this article it’s about words searching for meaning instead of images.

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Two Daughters, Two Sisters

To say I’m a lucky dad would be the understatement my life. I am the lucky father to two beloved women, sisters of another mister but my daughters just the same. I would not meet either of them until each was entering those awkward teenage years. Those meetings, those years, changed my life immeasurably. In ways I’m not sure I can properly relate with mere words. Anyone that knows me understands anytime I find myself without words, it’s best to peak out one’s window to verify the Earth continues to spin. Since I will not be responsible for armageddon, I shall endeavor to search my soul for those very words. The words that best relate my reflections on being a faltering father to these two cherished ladies.

The day before my oldest would became my first daughter

I came to these ladies years after their birth. One arrived through marriage the other through adoption. Both settled deep into an inescapable part of my heart. While I didn’t have the fortune to know them from their earliest years, I have since watched them grow from giggling girls into wonderful women and finally marvelous moms. Today they rear their own children. I count six grandkids they have given me between them. They aren’t just marvelous moms, they are fantastically first-rate moms oozing a paternal love I only aspired to reach during my heady days of parenting.

If only I could say I was a remarkable a parent to them at any point during those years, but to say so would be inaccurate. While I may have been thrust into parenthood one teenage girl at a time, I did chose that path each time uttering the simple words “I do.” Even so my lack of preparedness can not be understated. I knew precious little about personal relations of people and remarkably less about parenting. Whether a lack of the right genetic code or simply a lack of proper temperament, whatever the reason I failed at being the parent I should have been. Even if I were better than I recall, I surely never attained the level of parenting both these ladies achieve daily, and at such a young age. I was 36 when I became a dad of one, and 40 when I became a dad of two and from the start this duck barely knew how to swim. Forget about taking his flock of ducklings into the choppy waters of life; the outcome could have been disastrous. To say I've been impressed with their evolving skills would be another understatement of Earth stopping magnitude. It seems I determined to bring about armageddon on this poor planet. Even mother Earth is probably wondering how this all worked out so well.

The day my youngest was adopted.

When they were young I found myself consumed with work. When not consumed with work I found ways of distracting my mind from that engulfing work. Parenting I never sought out as I should, instead allowing the need of parenting to knock three times at my door seeking attention. A passive mode of parenting seemed to be my modus operandi. While I realize there is no true guide to parenting and no singular style, I failed to find an active and interactive way to parent them both. As I watch these two moms today “parenting” their children, I can see how my style of parenting was at best a gatekeeper TO LIFE and less an educator OF LIFE. They teach, they punish, they entertain but most of all they experience their childrens’ lives interactively. They aren’t just rulers over them but partners in their Game of Life. I was not inattentive, nor hateful nor mean; in retrospect I wasn’t fully present in a way a parent should be and not in the way these two lovely ladies handle their own children.

Wonderful dinner with my youngest.

I provided praise when deserved. I issued proportional punishment when needed. They even suffered through more lectures than probably the Geneva Convention allows the most villainous of creatures to endure. Through it all, I not once stopped loving them. I never stopped liking them. Yet never found a way to show fatherly affection in the best possible way and never truly experienced those growing years with them as I should have done. To this day I’ve not yet figured out that special sauce. Personal relations are not my forte, and parenting is very much about personal relations. I find a way in a professional environment, but in a personal one I’m all thumbs. I can only hope that while faltering at being the best possible parent; in some minor way I can claim responsibility in providing these daughters of mine the wisdom and attentiveness that endears them as such great parents. If not, I take solace knowing I did not act in opposition to those skills.

Opening birthday present from my oldest.

On Father’s Day it’s expected we pay homage to all our dads and to and what they mean to each of us. In my case, this father, feels it necessary to pay his respects to both his daughters for how they have become the embodiment of parenthood I wish I might have attained. I can say that being their father gave me perspective on life. My daughters opened my heart in ways I knew not possible. In the final analysis, I’m pretty sure I learned more from them than they from I. The old phrase, “the student has become the master,” seem so very appropriate when I think of them both and the families they are leading.

To you both I speak directly. I love you both my delightful daughters, you two remarkable sisters. On this Father’s Day, one unremarkable dad thanks you wonderful ladies for not just being my daughters, but choosing to become my daughters. Few dads enjoy that honor. I may not have always been the dad you deserved but I pray I never ceased being the dad you needed. This I can say with absolute unreservedness. You both will always be the daughters I wanted. The daughters I love, no matter how deplorable I might be at exercising that love. This is why to me it’s not Father’s Day, but Daughter’s Day.

Courtney & Kristie, to you both I say, “Happy Daughter’s Day.” - Dad

WayBack: Earliest Photos

I began taking photos at a very young age. I had my first camera, an instamatic 110 I believe, around the age of 8 or so. It wouldn’t be until my mom got me my first SLR that I would begin to take photography as an art form and begin to experiment and have fun.
I was by no means an artist but I was teaching myself how to compose images and “get the shot.” Most of my photos are lost to time, but a few I still have in digital form.
Back then I was shooting on a Canon T80 and later a Nikon 2020, which I still own. Both are “film” cameras. Owning my own camera allowed me to join the school newspaper and yearbook staff and further stretch my photographic muscles during my senior year in high school. I was allowed to carry my camera anywhere on campus and even into class because I was “school press.” I don’t have those photos but some ended up in the 1988-1989 yearbook and the few papers we put out that year.
In college I remained a shutterbug and even though expensive to get photos developed as a student with little income, a hobby I played with when time permitted.