I sat under a partly sunny sky on Father’s Day contemplating fatherhood. I awoke to a text and Father’s Day greetings from Dylan who started it all for me nearly 25 years ago. He was on vacation in the Black Hills. India was still snoozing after a bachelorette party at Green Lake. She was pretty chipper when she went to …
(I wrote this five years ago, on the 30th anniversary of my father’s death. It’s worth reprinting on Father’s Day.) The United States entered World War II shortly after the bombing at Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941. Just a few months later, in the spring of 1942, at the close of the Devils Lake Junior College school year, a handful …
When winter was packing a punch, the man would be outside Thielman’s Barber Shop sitting in a car, motor idling. On summer mornings, he’d likely be in a suit standing by the door, probably smoking a heater. Dad arrived, either in cold darkness or dewy early dawn, unlocked the door, flicked on the lights and knew what to do on …
I’ve been thinking about my dad. It’s been 24 years since he died, so when I think about him these days, it’s not about the way it ended — cancer — but about the way he lived and lives on in the stories I tell my kids. He would have loved them and they him. India and I went to …