June is bustin’ out all over
the local YMCA to establish a day in June to honour fathers and the idea spread to the extent she was receiving a hundred letters a day from people all over the country who wanted the day made official.
President Woodrow Wilson approved her struggle, and, through her determined efforts, just a few years before she died, she lived to see then President, Richard Nixon, declare in 1972 a permanent national holiday to observe Father’s Day on the third Sunday in June. Today, the observance is celebrated in many countries around the world.
Like many of today’s seniors, my parents (without any help from family, friends or government agencies) built a home with their own hands and survived the Great Depression through hard work and dogged determination. My parents dug the foundation for their first home with spades and a simple wheelbarrow. I recall stories of my father in overalls, walking miles to town every morning in search of work. Because of poor eyesight, Dad was unable to serve in the war, but went to Alaska and helped establish the highway that helped defend the West Coast. He became a skilled electrician and later caught the electronic boom that was to follow the 50s and the technology age.
I was very grown up before I came to appreciate all the sacrifices my father made on behalf of his family. He was always there for us at a time when families all sat together at dinner.
He loved his Des Moines Register and Tribune, the Saturday Evening Post and Life magazine. Books in our home were bound and displayed behind glass, like the entire Dickens collection. He also loved Camel cigarettes.
He encouraged academic excellence, but equally important were sports and music. My brothers and I grew up playing the piano and learning golf while caddying for him. In his later years, he slept with a picture of my three daughters under his pillow. Truly, a golden rule father and grandfather who delighted in packing the family off on vacations to visit relatives in his beloved Plymouth sedan.
Dad encouraged us early to set a course in life and warned us to then watch life get in the way. He loved to garden and planted red salvia to attract hummingbirds. The second time I married, he sent a huge bouquet and a card that read, “No more flowers, this is it!”
At their 50th wedding anniversary he proposed a toast to my mother and declared, “The first 49 years were the hardest!”
Now I often reflect how little preparation for old age we have aside from the example our parents set for us. We have endless courses on career choices, marriage and child rearing, but only our own experience to guide us through the golden years. My Dad would say, “Old age ain’t for sissies, and if I had known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself.”
He always had a smile and a great sense of humour. “See that guy leaning on his shovel? He works for the city.” When I asked him what KOVD meant, he replied “Keep on voting Democrat.”
To all the fathers everywhere, my special grandson included, I say remember beauty is only skin deep, but fabulous is forever.
Happy Fabulous Fathers Day and best wishes to you all.
Jeanette Dunagan is an Okanagan artist who has lived in Kelowna for more than 40 years. Her column appears every second week in the Okanagan Weekend. Email her at jd2399@telus.net.