IN MEMORY OF MY DAD who left us early but gave everyone enough memories to last a lifetime.
Father's Are Wonderful People
Father's are wonderful people,
too little understood,
And we do not sing their praises
as often as we should.
For somehow Father seems to be
the man who pays the bills,
While Mother binds up little hurts
and nurses all our ills.
And Father struggles daily
to live up to his image
As protector and provider
and the hero of the scrimmage.
And perhaps that is the reason
we sometimes get the notion
That fathers are not subject
to the thing we call emotion,
But if you look inside Dad's heart,
where no one else can see,
You'll find he's sentimental
and as soft as he can be.
But he's so busy every day
in the grueling race of life
That he leaves the sentimental stuff
to his partner and his wife.
But fathers are just wonderful
in a million different ways
And they merit loving compliments
and accolades of praise,
For the only reason Dad aspires
to fortune and success
Is to make the family proud of him
and to bring them happiness.
And like our heavenly Father,
he's a guardian and a guide-
Someone we can count on
to be always on our side.
by: Helen Steiner Rice
Father
My father didn't tell me how to live;
he lived, and let me watch him do it.
A father's goodness is higher than the mountains,
a mother's goodness is deeper than the sea.
Not to be cheered by praise,
Not to be grieved by blame,
But to know thoroughly one's own virtues and powers,
Are the characteristics of an excellent man.
A Father’s Ten Commandments
1. Strive to be a good example
2. Love your children
3. Love your wife
4. Be creative
5. Raise your children to leave you
6. Spend time with your children
7. Communicate with your children
8. Discipline your children properly
9. Develop a sense of humor
10. Enjoy being a father
UNDERSTANDING
Edgar Guest
When I was young and frivolous and never stopped to think,
When I was always doing wrong, or just upon the brink;
When I was just a lad of seven and eight and nine and ten,
It seemed to me that every day I got in trouble then,
And strangers used to shake their heads and say I was no good,
But father always stuck to me -- it seems he understood.
I used to have to go to him 'most every night and say
The dreadful things that I had done to worry folks that day.
I know I didn't mean to be a turmoil round the place,
And with the womenfolks about forever in disgrace;
To do the way they said I should, I tried the best I could,
But though they scolded me a lot -- my father understood.
He never seemed to think it queer that I should risk my bones,
Or fight with other boys at times, or pelt a cat with stones;
An' when I'd break a window pane, it used to make him sad,
But though the neighbors said I was, he never thought me bad;
He never whipped me, as they used to say to me he should;
That boys can't always do what's right -- it seemed he understood.
Now there's that little chap of mine, just full of life and fun,
Comes up to me with solemn face to tell the bad he's done.
It's natural for any boy to be a roguish elf,
He hasn't time to stop and think and figure for himself,
And though the womenfolks insist that I should take a hand,
They've never been a boy themselves, and they don't understand.
Some day I've got to go up there, and make a sad report
And tell the Father of us all where I have fallen short;
And there will be a lot of wrong I never meant to do,
A lot of smudges on my sheet that He will have to view.
And little chance for heavenly bliss, up there, will I command,
Unless the Father smiles and says: "My boy, I understand."
What Makes a Dad?
God took the strength of a mountain,
The majesty of a tree,
The warmth of a summer sun,
The calm of a quiet sea,
The generous soul of nature,
The comforting arm of night,
The wisdom of the ages,
The power of the eagles flight,
The joy of a morning in spring,
The faith of a mustard seed,
The patience of eternity,
The depth of a family need,
The God combined these qualities,
And then there was nothing more to add,
He knew His masterpiece was complete,
And so, He called it- - Dad.
ONLY A DAD
Only a dad with a tired face,
Coming home from the daily race,
Bringing little of gold or fame
To show how well he has played the game;
But glad in his heart that his own rejoice
To see him come and to hear his voice.
Only a dad with a brood of four,
One of ten million men or more
Plodding along in the daily strife,
Bearing the whips and the scorns of life,
With never a whimper of pain or hate,
For the sake of those who at home await.
Only a dad, neither rich nor proud,
Merely one of the surging crowd,
Toiling, striving from day to day,
Facing whatever may come his way,
Silent whenever the harsh condemn,
And bearing it all for the love of them.
Only a dad but he gives his all,
To smooth the way for his children small,
Doing with courage stern and grim
The deeds that his father did for him.
This is the line that for him I pen:
Only a dad, but the best of men.