Happy father’s day! OK, one day late. We went to visit our son and I got the pleasure of watching this father and son get covered in slime, maple and chocolate syrup. All to watch about 30 children laugh and ruin their clothes and know that people at this church loved them. But I have written so much about these to men...so not today. Father’s day? There is a lot more to my story.

First let me explain, I a long time ago made this a day to celebrate the best father I know. Because I wanted to honor him just a little more then most days last night I gave him one of my greatest joys. The privilege of riding in the passenger seat, late at night on a horrible fast highway. Concrete mediums, speeding trucks, glare, people cutting you off and giving you dirty looks!! All passengers we sound asleep unaware of how much of a sacrifice this was for me. Thankfully God and the Pennsylvania Road Dept. had the good grace to provide an hour long traffic crawl so I could stop my tears and cease my Lamaze breathing. I am a huge fan of country music and its was Father’s Day…so… sappy 'daddy' songs that could make the hardest of us shed a tear or two. Between 11pm and midnight (when the day closed on the old songs) I was forced to think about the other fathers in my life.

My father’s father, I have heard very little about except he drank too much and Grandma Cyl divorced him. All he gave to his son’s was his name, one kept it but the other did not. The man that raised my father I have heard was a mean man with some major mental issues. Grandma Cyl divorced him too. Grandpa Mac (#3) from what I knew of him was a kind man, set in his ways and loved me like a true Grandpa. Grandma Cyl divorced him. I am sure that my father (Cyril) was told that these men did the best they could. I wonder if he believed that? I do not.

So what of my father, Cyril? He was a charming man. But he was also a violent abusive drunk and addict. As well as a lying thief. He has a rumored 22 children which sadly I only know 11. He didn’t raise any of them for long, but sadly that was too long for too many. Grandma Cyl told me he did the best he could. He told me he did the best he could. We told him he did not.

My Daddy’s father, I have heard was a drunk, mean man, neither faithful to his wife or children. I remember my Daddy telling the SOB did the best he knew how. I don’t think so.

And my Daddy, George? I loved him so, I was the princess. But he was also a mean abusive drunk. Never laid a hand on me but did my mother. He was also unfaithful to Mom and therefore his children. I don’t know about his four boys, but I know I heard that he loved us in the only way he knew how. He did not.

My Mother’s Father, I have heard was also a mean drunk. He also abused his children emotionally and physically. I only knew him as a man in a wheel chair who couldn’t speak but still let me know he loved me. One day this feeble man raised his fist to hit me and I saw in his eyes what I had heard was true. Grandma stood up and told me he didn’t mean it dear. He meant it. I have heard that he did the best that he could. He did not.

You only need to look at my brother, to know those men had the choice to do other than they were taught. Duane did...they did not. We are a product of are upbringing, but not slaves to it. Those fathers knew what was right and they knew they were wrong…They did not do the best they could.

My Grandfathers are long past away. Cyril died alone on a mattress on the floor of small room where he painted. George decided 5 years ago that he needs to move on and didn’t want to see or talk to us. I guess he didn’t know I still needed a Daddy.

I still love them all and I have forgiven each of them as I knew must. As I wanted too. Old country songs may fill my over active tear ducts, but nothing will ever convince me that each of those men did the best they could.

So Garry is what Father’s Day is all about. A Day I use to honor the one father in my life who did his best!