Thursday, June 18, 2009

Dear Ol' Dad

My fondest memories of Dad are driving to seminary at o'dark-thirty in an only-slightly-defrosted vehicle, sometimes listening to CBC Radio, sometimes sitting in silence and often-times talking about business, taxes, politics, investment, farming, machinery or real-life gospel principles. We had two years to ourselves before I took over the driving routine.

I still miss those early mornings and I relish the times when he calls on his way home from the office or a meeting or a cattle sale and we talk for the 30 minutes it takes to drive west on Hwy 16, south on the gravel Bearhead Rd and finally south-east on the Telegraph. Then again, sometimes he just parks the car in the driveway and we keep talking. I like that. A lot.

There's the loveliest tribute to father at the Apron Stage today. You won't want to miss reading it. Aren't fathers wonderful? Especially fathers of little girls? I'm my daddy's little girl; I think I always will be, too.

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