Happy Father's Day, Dad

It's been almost 10 years since I've seen my father, but looking at these recently scanned images from the early 70's brought back a lot of happy memories from my childhood.

He had a lot of different looks going on back in the day.

My parents were teenagers when they had me.  My dad's father died when he was six and his mother died when he was 12.  He paved his own way as a parent and did the best he could when I was younger.

My dad was (and still is) a union man.  Steelworkers Union Local #433.  His mantra was that ironworkers built the world and we never crossed a picket line.  Ever.

He worked hard for our family and drove into Los Angeles every morning before the sun was up and commuted home in hellish traffic every night.  On Friday nights he would buy me and my sister flowers from a downtown vendor.  Oh, how I loved getting those bouquets.

He taught me the value of a dollar and instilled a strong work ethic in me.  He also taught me how to balance a checkbook, wash a car, mow the lawn, clean street gutters and that adding and subtracting really do work together.  I also learned how to use colorful language from him, too, but that's another story!

As I got older, we would go out for ice cream and have father-daughter talks.  We would head to the mall and shop at Contempo Casuals for my mother's birthday and xmas presents.  My dad liked to try and embarrass me when I was growing up.  He would yell to innocent bystanders to get off the sidewalk while he was teaching me to drive.  He always made sure I had money in my pocket, so that I could use a pay phone to call him if a date went bad.

Dad, thanks for all you did to help me become the woman I am today.
Happy Father's Day.