I see store fliers in the newspaper full of Father's Day gift suggestions, mostly shirts, few ties.
I walk through the card aisle and see the possibilities, humorous, sappy, nail-on-the-head perfect.
Madison Avenue makes it all seem so peaceful and rewarding, and it is. My husband proved that over and over. I'm thrilled with the card I selected for him this year.
But now I want to direct your attention to this man:
|Hiram Glenn Holsopple, Sr.|
|Me in his arms, my brother (Glenn, Jr.) at his side|
He was a tinkerer. Our basement was crammed with his cars and his machines and his latest projects. Video games were just appearing on the scene in his final years. He connected a table tennis video game to an old television set and played it for hours. I can only imagine his reaction to the games now. I know he would have them ready to play when his grandchildren came over. If he'd only had the chance.
I've had thirty some years of not buying a card for him. That's the way life goes, I suppose, but even then, one thing remains. I love him no less than I did that horrible day my mother called with the news of his death. In fact, as my children grew and my grandchildren grew, I've grown to love him more.
Love never fails. Happy Father's Day, Daddy.
Catch of the day,