Since 1966, Father’s Day has been celebrated on the third Sunday in June. It was signed into law by President Nixon in 1972. The first Father’s Day was recognized in 1910, in Spokane, Washington. It was established by Sonora Dodd to honor her dad who had single-handedly raised 6 children, after his wife died in childbirth. June was selected because it was the month of Ms. Dodd’s dad’s birthday.
As a little girl, I idolized my own dad. Oh my goodness, he could do no wrong and I think I was just perfect in his eyes too. When I broke my arm for the first time at age 5, he was working. But my mom, my sister and I were all in town with him at the time. I was so scared at the hospital when they x-rayed my elbow. I thought I did something wrong by climbing the jungle gym and hanging down when no one could catch me. My father arrived soon afterwards and comforted me by telling me a story of when he broke his leg as a child. He was climbing over a fence and his pant leg got caught. He fell over the other side, hanging from the top, in agony
Dad’s role in the family was different than Mom’s. While she stayed at home, he went off to work everyday. We craved his attention when he walked in the door at the end of a long day! I’m sure Mom was a bit jealous at times, but it was so great to jump into his arms and wrap arms around his neck. My father played games with us like “the Alligator.” He would lie on the floor and my sisters and I would try to tiptoe by him and escape out of the room without being snagged and tickled to death by the Alligator! I can still recall our shrieks of joy as we leaped back onto the couch, considered the “safe zone.”
In addition to being our family’s provider, Daddy would tuck us into bed each night and say our prayers. These grew quite lengthy over time as we added and lost pets, in particular. We would still “God Bless” each and every one of them, in addition to as many other people and friends we could think of, to keep him in our room just a bit longer and delay going to sleep.
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