Thanks for fathers

My memories of my Dad growing up are mostly the outdoor type: hosing down the garden; burning the field adjacent to our house; playing pickle and baseball with friends and family; watching him hit golf balls into our neighbor's yard and back again; and mowing...always mowing.

Come to think of it, I don't know what we did all winter long! I'm guessing that must have been the time when we watched movies—every weekend—with popcorn and homemade brownies if we hadn't thoroughly exhausted mom by that hour.

It should be no surprise to me then, that my favorite memories so far of David being a Dad to Noah are from our time in the great outdoors. There is something endearing about watching a Dad parent a kid in fresh air. Give a man a fishing pole and a tent, and he'll build a month's worth of tales for his child to share with buddies.

David and Noah haven't been camping together yet—and they've certainly never spent six weeks on one excursion like my Dad did with my family as kids—but they've got a good start. I've been lucky to take part in some of their firsts: playgrounds, sandboxes, sprinklers, swimming pools, fishing, lawn mowing, quad riding, walking in the woods, and just yesterday, "golfing," putt-putt style.

For all the time he spends with Noah, David is rewarded with the best kind of prize: gut-busting belly laughs from his little man, brilliant smiles and the frequently-heard phrase, "I go see Dada." I'm pretty sure if Noah knew the definition of "hero," David would be the image he pictures in his own version of Webster's.

Earlier this week, I was lucky enough to enjoy a visit from my Dad out of the blue. He had two golf tournaments to attend in Columbus and needed a cheap hotel to stay at in between. David and I were happy to oblige, and I was tickled to build on 31 years of memories of my Dad. We didn't do anything extraordinary—dinner & dessert and a little TV. But it was a great deal of fun watching my Dad bond with Noah and David... like many generations of dads and dads-to-be at play.

When this day rolls around each year, I feel pretty darn blessed to have come from a Grade-A Dad, and to be married to another first-rate Dad. Happy Father's Day, men!