My Dad
I've been thinking about my Dad a lot lately. He was a quiet, gentle soul. In fact I never heard him raise his voice to me or anyone else. If he was stressed about anything, he became very quiet. I'm sure there were things that angered him; I just never knew what that might be. Most of all, he was kindness personified. When I was a very little girl, maybe six or seven, I would crawl between him and the back cushions on the couch where we would nap together or listen to the radio. It was a place of safety and comfort for me. Whereas some of my friends were challenged by their fathers to get better grades and motivated to be the best in their career choice, my dad was satisfied with me as I was, am, would become. Sometimes I wish he had dangled that carrot of accomplishment in front of my nose, pushed me harder, demanded more from his youngest daughter. I suppose being the only man in a houseful of women has a dampening effect on ambition. The fact is, I really didn't know h...