Share your Father’s Day tribute

It’s time to celebrate Delaware Valley dads. We’re looking for your tributes to fathers. Tell us why your dad is the best. Got any special memories? Are neckties and cigars and tools not cutting it as gifts anymore? We’d love to hear from you.

Share your tributes in the comments below.

Here are some anecdotes from WHYY staffers to get your wheels turning.

 

When Father’s Day rolls around, there’s always that nagging question: What to get for both my father and father-in-law. Both men also have birthdays very close to Father’s Day, so chances are, they have just received several brand-new polo shirts in varying shades of blue (with a pocket for pens and phones!).

It’s hard to shop for men like them, because they will always tell you that they don’t need or want anything. They come from a generation that wore a belt until it fell off, and didn’t replace anything just for the sake of having something new.

They are not stuff- or fashion junkies; they might enjoy a nice glass of wine but insist that an expensive bottle is wasted on them; they have begrudgingly accepted new technologies, but please don’t get them a new iPhone, because that “will mess everything up,” or they “have just learned how to use the one they have” (the Miami Vice-looking version), and by the way, it works great.

In a time when “updates” on anything come out by the minute, they stubbornly and loyally hold on to things as long as they work. During a recent visit, my father carefully taped the torn pages of my kids’ favorite books back together. I almost said “Don’t worry about it, they have so many books,” but thankfully, I caught myself.

While their take on consumption makes it hard to shop for them, it is a quality I admire. It sets an example to make do, to conserve resources, and to be happy and content with what you have, rather than spending your days chasing what you don’t have.

So — the perfect thing to get them for Father’s Day is a card that says, “Thanks for being a great role model — in so many ways!”

—Maiken Scott,Behavioral health Reporter, WHYY 

 

My dad, Michael McDonald (the teacher, not the singer):

is hands down, the most patient person I’ve ever met.
is incredibly supportive of everything I do while encouraging me to be independent and forward-thinking.
taught me the value of hard work, the value of a dollar and the importance of putting family first.

(And he taught me everything I’ve ever learned about computers, turning me into a Mac snob.)

—Shannon McDonaldNewsWorks Feed blogger

 

A decade ago, my Dad was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Three days later, he woke my family up before dawn and announced that we were going to a diner at the Shore to eat cinnamon buns.

“Are you crazy?” I said. “It’s 5:00 in the morning.”

I was 17. It was summer. I wanted to sleep.

“Get in the car,” he replied.

My Dad is not the most spontaneous person in the world. He eats the same lunch every single day. He has the same morning routine (cereal, newspaper, a kiss for Mom on the cheek.) He does not wake up his family in the middle of the night, and especially not for cinnamon buns.

Except for that day. We piled into the car. No one talked. We had one collective goal in mind — to eat cinnamon buns at a diner at the Shore. There wasn’t much else to say.

We got to Ocean City, got our cinnamon buns (they were warm) and ate them on the Boardwalk, watching the sun come up and the beach walkers meander along the shoreline. My Dad stared at the ocean. Then he announced that we were done. We drove home, also in silence.

We never talked about the incident. He never woke us up again to drive to the beach. Last summer, he celebrated 10 years of remission. On the kitchen table that morning: a box of cinnamon buns.

—Melody KramerAssociate producer for Fresh Air