Posted on | June 15, 2014 | 6 Comments
My father gave me what too many girls nowadays ruin themselves for lacking: A strong, loving, steady masculine presence. It’s inconceivable what I would be like without him. So, before I explain why my dad’s story is bigger than us, let me brag on him a little. It’s Father’s Day weekend, after all.
Dad’s presence in my life kept me safe from many things my girlfriends put themselves through in frantic search of a man’s love. And my dad’s love was tangible, more acted out than spoken. He didn’t just say he loved us. His life repeatedly proved it. I never worried where my next meal would come from, because my father woke in the wee hours of many mornings to toil in sandy Wisconsin fields and breathe asthma-inducing corn dust as he fixed and re-fixed the grain bins. I’ve been lucky enough to marry the first man I’ve ever kissed (although not the first I dated). I didn’t feel much pressure to let guys touch me, or even date around before I was ready, because my dad not only gave boys those guard-dog looks and those looks let me know he considered me too precious to give out easily. He didn’t have to say it. He just had to look it. . . .