Honoring My Father

I watch the ads on the television set for Father's Day gifts, smiling fathers cooking in the backyard, busy fathers playing catch, fishing.

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.

Isn't he a handsome dude! He's my father and I'm guessing this snapshot of him was taken before I even came into the picture. There's no date on the back, but given his suit coat and the location in Pennsylvania at his mother's, and the lack of color, I can sort of date it to the early 1940's. He was born in 1912, so he would have been in his thirties.

Me in his arms, my brother (Glenn, Jr.) at his side

I would love to run out and purchase a barbecue grill to give him this year, but it's too late. He died in 1981. What he's missed since then, I can't begin to list. Fortunately, he knew his grandchildren. They meant the world to him, yet he missed watching them grow up. He missed taking my mother on trips abroad, although they did their fair share. He missed new cars and talking politics and Mad Magazine issues.

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,

Gretchen