It’s Father’s Day and I wanted to pay tribute to all the fathers that have been in my life.

I barely remember my paternal grandfather because he died when I was young though he outlived two wives. We called him Papa and he told me there were bugs in my oatmeal at breakfast. He was just teasing, but I refused to eat breakfast that day. He was a farmer and raised five children during The Great Depression. My father was the youngest.

My maternal grandfather was also a farmer and big hunter and fisherman with a deep baritone voice that could be heard all over the tiny church where he attended. He also raised a family during The Great Depression and here were eight of them, my mother one of the oldest.

I come from a long line of farmers as my father-in-law farmed for a while and then moved to town. They only had two children, and neither of them got into farming. Both went to college.

My father also stayed away from farming and went into the Air Force during WWII and became an aircraft mechanic. He spent his life raising three children and fishing as often as possible.

My husband and his brother both went into radio and raised two children each. Later my husband changed professions and worked in Aircraft Maintenance to take care of his family and hunted when he could. He loved the great outdoors but didn’t work in that field.

My husband and I raised two children, and our son became an immediate father to two children when he married their mother. He is an avid fisherman, and motorcyle enthusiast, but spends his days in front of a computer, though he, too, loves the outdoors.

All of these men worked hard all their lives, raised their children, and played when they were given a chance—if they weren’t too tired after the day’s work. Men like them are what make the world go ‘round. They work hard, play hard, and enjoy their families.

Happy Father’s Day to any and all.

What are you reading/writing this week?