My father was a simple man...cereal for breakfast, work before fun, meat and potatoes for supper, the evening news on TV.
He always seemed happy. He worshiped my mother. He never complained, even though he worked construction in the Florida heat day in and day out, making peanuts for money. I don't recall him ever taking a sick day. Every year he spent his Christmas bonus on me.
He couldn't sing...but that didn't stop him; he sang me to sleep and sang me awake. He let me give him a real haircut when I was 8 years old and opened a pretend barber shop in my playroom.
With my dad, what you saw was what you got. He showed me what it means to honor your word. If he said he would, he did. He never let me down.
To me, he was safety and stability. He didn't sugar coat the truth or lie to make the hard times easier (but he did make the hard times easier).
My father wasn't my friend - he was my dad. He was the cornerstone on which my childhood rested.
Now a haircut isn't just a haircut, and the simplest things in life bring me the greatest joy. Thanks, Dad.
