Mean Gene
Erin Hill
mail@bradfordvillebugle.com
As Father’s Day gets closer, I find myself saying the same prayer I always do. Thank you.
Thank you for another year with my dad. Another Father’s Day. Another chance to call him, ask a question, or just hear his voice.
I don’t take that lightly.
I think a lot about how much of my life started with him. Not just the big milestones, but the everyday things that added up over time.
Before deadlines and newspaper pages, there was a little girl learning to read at 3 because her dad made sure of it. He didn’t just teach me how to read. He made me want to learn.
That turned into a love for books. Then writing. Then somehow, a career in newspapers.
There’s a good chance I wouldn’t be doing this without him.
Growing up, we didn’t have a choice about the news being on. It didn’t matter what we wanted to watch. At 5, 6 and 11, the TV was on the news.
Now I catch most things on my phone, but my dad still watches it the old way. He still keeps up. He still calls if something is going on.
Last month, when bad weather came through, my phone rang early that morning.
He told me I didn’t need to be out on the road.
That’s just how he is. Always looking out.
There’s that saying about teaching someone to fish so they can take care of themselves. My dad did that in more ways than one.
He taught me how to fish before I was 5. One of my strongest memories is getting lost in the woods with him during a morning fishing trip. We didn’t make it out until that night. I wasn’t scared though. I was with him.
He also taught me how to grow things, how to cook, how to figure things out without giving up.
Even now, I still call him for advice. Sometimes it’s about a recipe. Sometimes it’s about the garden. Sometimes it’s just because I need to hear what he thinks.
He lives two hours away, but that has never really mattered. If I call in the middle of the night, he answers. If I needed him, he would be on the way before I finished explaining.
That kind of love shows up every time.
I could keep going, but there really aren’t enough words.
So this Father’s Day, I’ll keep it simple.
Thank you, Dad.
