When special days roll around I find that so many of them are simply commercial gimmicks forcing us into a guilt trip. There’s Secretary’s Day, Valentine’s Day, even days named after people with no relevance to our lives at all. However, there are two days that I do keep beyond our family birthdays. The days when we celebrate our parents remain special.
This week we celebrate Father’s Day. I know not everyone has fond memories of growing up with or without a father but in my case, I was very fortunate to grow up in a family that loved and respected one another. My father was a man worth emulating and hopefully, he would be proud of his boys in their adulthood.
Dad was a blue collar worker. He spent his entire life working in a factory. He worked both as a colour mixer in a wallpaper factory, then management and even as a union steward. He was a man of many sides. Dad was able to blend his skills of work and leadership into a wonderful effective model of how life should be lead.
Dad spent his work life in paint-stained coveralls and by supper, he was showered and dressed for the evening.
Always impeccable in his wardrobe, Dad also spent time working in a clothing store for men. There were two reasons for that. One, his factory job covered his costs of raising a family and secondly he loved good clothes. This way he was afforded a little extra money and good clothing at a wonderful rate.
That desire to dress well became part of that lifestyle for his boys. When I was in high school I had to be the best-dressed boy on the dance floor. Seriously, I was always in style with the current trend. How many remember white buck shoes, charcoal slacks and pink shirts. That was me!
My wife now wonders why I no longer have the desire to be a classy dresser. Golf shirts and shorts are the mainstays of my wardrobe. My dad would be embarrassed by my current dress code.
One last thought, because of the long hours at the factory, 10 hours per day, Dad seldom had time for doing a lot of fun things with his boys.
However, Sundays after church we would walk forever until we reached an ice cream store about thirty blocks away. Homemade ice cream! This was a ritual that could not be missed during the summer months.
Fond memories that, to this day, linger when I enter an ice cream parlour that scoops its own delights.
I have more remembrances of my Dad but I’ll save those for another time. Happy Father’s Day!
Loving scoop ice cream, Kent Walton can be reached at [email protected].
