Sunday June 19, 2011 at 14:20

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I am very much, my father’s daughter.  Growing up, I had an oversized baseball tee with a sparkly iron on saying “Daddy’s Girl” and (creepiness aside) I wish I still had it. My dad grew up in a small town in eastern Oklahoma with two incredible parents, two brothers and a sister.  He was very close with his Uncle Mark, who wrote lengthy and wonderful letters to him throughout his life.  He dropped out of high school and joined the Army at 17.  He spent a few years in Vietnam and upon returning to the US, he met my mother, a Vietnamese woman.  On their first date, he realized that he didn’t have enough money and had to borrow money from her.  He didn’t have enough money because he had loaned most of his money to a friend whose wife had been in a horrible accident.  My parents moved to western Oklahoma in 1975 when my dad took a job with a oil company.  Three years later, I was born. I have a memory of his 30th birthday, of giant tubs full of beer and soft drinks in our front yard.  He taught me how to ride my bike, he built me a tree house, he taught me how to drive a car.  He would sing a song every Sunday morning to wake us up for church, and then he would make us breakfast.  He drove the church bus on Sunday evenings.  He helped start a volunteer fire department in our small town and loved it so much that he quit the oil business and because a firefighter full time.  He has recently retired and is just enjoying his time, trying to find things to do. There are so many other things that I could say or stories that I could tell about my dad, but suffice it to say that I’m still a “Daddy’s Girl”. Happy Father’s Day, Dad. 

I am very much, my father’s daughter.  Growing up, I had an oversized baseball tee with a sparkly iron on saying “Daddy’s Girl” and (creepiness aside) I wish I still had it.

My dad grew up in a small town in eastern Oklahoma with two incredible parents, two brothers and a sister.  He was very close with his Uncle Mark, who wrote lengthy and wonderful letters to him throughout his life.  He dropped out of high school and joined the Army at 17.  He spent a few years in Vietnam and upon returning to the US, he met my mother, a Vietnamese woman.  On their first date, he realized that he didn’t have enough money and had to borrow money from her.  He didn’t have enough money because he had loaned most of his money to a friend whose wife had been in a horrible accident.  My parents moved to western Oklahoma in 1975 when my dad took a job with a oil company.  Three years later, I was born.

I have a memory of his 30th birthday, of giant tubs full of beer and soft drinks in our front yard.  He taught me how to ride my bike, he built me a tree house, he taught me how to drive a car.  He would sing a song every Sunday morning to wake us up for church, and then he would make us breakfast.  He drove the church bus on Sunday evenings.  He helped start a volunteer fire department in our small town and loved it so much that he quit the oil business and because a firefighter full time.  He has recently retired and is just enjoying his time, trying to find things to do.

There are so many other things that I could say or stories that I could tell about my dad, but suffice it to say that I’m still a “Daddy’s Girl”.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad. 

  1. stellag posted this