The Gold Thread of Fathers & ROW80 Update

There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself.

John Gregory Brown

This is how I started my Father's Day post last year: A Day to Celebrate Dads. Please take a moment to hop over and read it. It's quite sweet, if I do say so myself.



Dad with my first baby

I love this quote. My writing centers around women... their issues, relationships, communications. I find figuring out women a lifetime task, especially since I am one of three sisters and now mom to three daughters.

There haven't been many important men in my life. I met my husband at 18, and I don't have brothers. I credit my dad and husband with opening my eyes to the beauty of men, especially as fathers to girls.

I credit my dad for finding humor in the world around me, such an important part of making it through life's ups and downs. He also taught me a strong work ethic. My dad never lessened his expectations for us just because we were girls. He always told us we could be anything we wanted. Those threads are such a part of who I am. He is now a wonderful Papa to my girls, and adds to their tapestry like he added to mine.

My amazing hubby with our girls

My husband has taught me patience and calm, okay he is still teaching me. He is a rock and supports my dreams while downplaying my failures. When I said I wanted to write, he said to write. When I said I wanted baby #3, he bought me a puppy but was thrilled when baby #3 was announced a month later. When I wanted to publish a book, he asked how he could help. He reminds me to put the work down and play... to never forget how short life is.

My girls are blessed to already have two wonderful male influences. This generation of men beware: you have a lot to prove to impress my girls!

Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there. Never forget the importance of your role!

*****

My A Round of Words in 80 Days (ROW80) Update

OMG! Is it possible that Round 2 ends next week. How did that happen?!

Sorry I missed Wednesday's check in. I rarely miss one, but we were at the beach and fun times were the only progress I was making!

Writing: Back on track. I printed out the 150 pages... yes, I did say 150 pages, it felt so good to see it all printed... so I could reread and reconnect to my WIP (after taking some time off, both planned and unplanned). I'm happy to say, I like it! I'm excited to sink my teeth back in this week and spend some time thinking about my writing goals for Round 3 ROW80.

Blogging: Daily. In July and August, I'm going back to a 3-4 days a week schedule so I can focus on writing. I posted twice last week on Mom in Love with Fiction.

Reading: I give myself at least 30 minutes a night to read. I need to start earlier or set a timer. The books I've been reading have been good and are keeping me up way too late.

Editing: Spending a minimum of an hour a day on editing projects. Sometimes I break it up, especially if I hit a couple of spots that stump me.

Social Media: Here's where I need a real schedule. I'm so far behind, especially now that I have so many blogs I like to read. I haven't found the solution for staying on top of it.

I hope all my ROW80 friends kick it this week as we cross the Round 2 finish line.

Piddling & Picking = P: Blogging from A to Z

Mom's back, and her P post is inspired by my dad (known to my kids as Papa). A P post by a parent about another parent. Perfect, if I do say so myself.

I hope you enjoy this post as much as I did. But maybe I have a distorted sense of humor brought about by the author and subject of the post below.

*****

Piddling and Picking

Don’t laugh. Both piddling and picking are an acquired art, according to my husband. From a child, he was called a piddler. If you don’t know what a piddler is, you haven’t met one. Once you have, the definition is clear. It’s a state of being where you aren’t rushing around like a mad fool and not stagnant like a worn out tire. You go about life’s business at a pace that allows you to fondle things on your work bench or examine how sharp the blade is on your edger. It isn’t loafing. It isn’t fixing things either. But it is all about lingering and studying. And considering the manic pace of life today, I might agree piddling is an art form.

But picking? I’m not so sure if the act of picking is art, but the end product if picked well might be somewhat profitable. The TV show American Pickers is my husband’s favorite. In it, Mike and Frank go from town to town and through a lot of people’s barns, houses, stables, and garages to find the perfect pick to bargain on, buy, and resale. Picking is what I call a garage sale except you get dirty, touch rodents, and plow through spider webs. Need I say more?

My husband debates from his recliner, loudly advising Mike and Frank how to be coy or bargain hard. But I’ve been watching him, and I do believe he has a crush on Danielle. She runs Mike’s shop, Antique Archaeology. She’s the gothic, tattoo babe that greets the “boys” when they check in. Personally, I think someone who looked like Vicki Lawrence’s character, Mama, would make a bigger hit. At least she would add some humor to the show. Unfortunately the hubby says attractive women raise viewership. He points out Fox News. Need I say more?

So if you have time on your hands, look on piddling and picking with disdain or as a waste of time, you might want to experiment with it in order to make a clearer judgment. I did. Need I say more?

*****

At our core, aren't writers and all artists piddlers?

We go around observing, taking in details. Granted, I tend to do this at an all-out pace. Maybe I should embrace slowing down and piddling. Heck, I'm all for some picking, too.

The journey from A to Z continues, and tomorrow is Q. Q! Can't wait to see the other participants tackling Q.

Triple Whammy Gifting: Guest Post by My Dad, Dallas Silverthorne

Today is my Dad's 62nd birthday. To celebrate the occasion, I asked him to write a blog post about his most memorable gift. I know, I'm a sweet daughter... what can I say?

Enjoy!

*****

Tia asked me if I’d send her a blog post based on what I thought was one of the many gifts I had ever received that stood out as impressionable. Admittedly, she had to explain what a blog post was. But I agreed.

The list was numerous, from childhood memories of simple, country Christmases, where my favorite gift was contained in a penny candy bag filled with nuts, an orange, an apple, and two chocolate covered cherries; to countless ones spent with my daughters.

But I decided to write the one I felt has impacted my wife, children and me more than any other.

For months, I had been dreading my 50^th birthday. 50? And on top of it, my daughter had just announced I was going to be a grandfather. Grandfather? What happened to the debonair young man who could fly a Frisbee halfway across a football field and do kip-ups to impress his adoring daughters? Gray hairs were sprouting. I was falling asleep at the drop of a hat . . . no, before the hat fell! What was happening to me?

Two weeks before that dreaded day, I had a physical. I left more dejected. High cholesterol. Zocor prescription in hand. I jumped into my red corvette and stomped on the gas petal, spinning clear of the doctor’s office. Heading back to work, I vowed I would get to my 50^th, telling anyone who would listen that I had gone 50 years without meds. I would remain in control as long as possible.

On the Friday before my birthday, my wife and youngest daughter announced they were taking me to dinner. Frankly, I wanted to go home, settle in my easy chair and be alone. But how do you tell two excited women that you wish they’d go alone? So I went.

They took me to a nice restaurant. It was way too crowded. Too many people dropped by with greetings. A lot of them worked for me, so I feigned warm greetings. Couldn’t they all see the sign on my forehead, “Middle aged crisis brewing! Beware!”

Halfway through dinner, I happened to look across the room and almost fell out of my chair. It was my two brothers and their wives.  My head couldn’t spin fast enough. I looked dead-on at my wife. “Tell me you haven’t planned anything for my birthday.”

From their adoring, excited looks I knew something was coming. And for one moment, I was furious. I felt deceived. Hadn’t I told them not to do this? Before I could chew into them, I saw my family moving my way, smiling broadly.

Everything I had been feeling brewed sour. The next day, the doorbell kept ringing. One daughter arrived from New York. The other from Chicago. My brothers called and asked me to meet them for lunch. I wanted to run, but instead, I acquiesced and went.

Finally my wife confessed there would be a small gathering. Small?  By 7pm, 125 guests had arrived. Despite how I was feeling, the evening proved wonderful. The roasting was kind, and I poured my humor out in rare form.

Afterwards, I realized how special the celebration had been:

1. Turning 50 didn’t hurt. In fact it was a blessing of love that still humbles me.
2. GE stock split 3 for 1, first time in my 27 year employment.
3. I made it to 50 without taking one ongoing medication.

Looking back, I realized that was a pivotal time, not just a half century birthday. It reminded me:

1. Life is short.

Dad and his first grand-daughter, Jackie

2. A grandchild was on the way. My legacy would go on.
3. The added stock value beefed up my savings to finalize my dream. Retirement.

And for the first time in my life, I embraced the fact that I had:

1. Missed the mark—leading an unbalanced life.
2. Missed out—not being available for precious moments.
3. Missed life—no time for anything beyond 7 to 7 work days.

More than anything in my life, I wanted to:

1. Spend more time with God.
2. Enjoy my family.
3. Give to others.

So in the end, and reflecting back today, I realize that my 50th birthday began a new venture in my life. A new beginning. A lot of blessings. One of the biggest gifts I’ve ever received. A triple whammy multiplied many times over because I’ve been present in love rather than being absent in guilt.

*****

As you age, what is your greatest gift?

A Day to Celebrate Dads

There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself.

John Gregory Brown

The thread began with the birth of your first daughter, me! Two more followed. Your drive to be a good man increased. You always told us we could be anything we wanted to be. With each encouraging word, a stitch was sewn.

You worked sixty hour weeks and provided for our family. You helped with homework and re-proved Geometry theorems long proven. When I asked what a word meant, you told me to go look in the dictionary. But your advice didn't stop there. You told me to memorize the word above it and below it as well.

My favorite Dad sayings:
* SOL = S**t out of luck
* Katie bar the door = Hold me back
* You might want horns, but you're going to die butt-headed = I told you No, child.
* You've gone from preaching to meddling now = advice is one thing, nagging is another
* If a frog had wings, he wouldn't bump his ass when he jumped = Deal with reality

The first time I heard someone else say SOL, I wanted to ask them if they knew my dad. In my eyes, he invented everything. My pedestal was built high, and he sat upon it. The teenage years came. He pushed us while holding on and creating safety. We disagreed at times, but I knew he loved me. More stitches sewn.

When I met my future husband at eighteen, he was cautious but supportive. Five years later, we married. Dad walked me down the aisle, but never gave me away entirely. The year we got married was my parent's 25th year of marriage. I asked my dad what made a good marriage. He told me compromise, with a caveat. "Compromise does not usually mean 50-50," he said. "Sometimes he'll get 100% of what he wants, sometimes you will. But, in the end, it should all come out right." These words often comfort me. What is the 50-50 to having children? Whether to move or not? Changing careers?

Dad with Jackie in 2000

I made my dad a grandfather the year he turned 50! Still a successful and very busy professional, he always made time for visits. The stress washed away when he held my daughter; he softened like I'd never seen. The cloth surrounded me; so many stitches.

My parents recently celebrated 40 years of marriage, and their support for their children has never lessened. Though we've grown up and had kids of our own, they still ask us to call if we are traveling to let them know we are safe. I am very blessed.

Today, I say Happy Father's Day to my dad. I wouldn't be half the person I am today without your love and support. And, I must say, all those extra words I looked up have come in handy!

Special aside: my dad was the humor. He found ways to lighten up heavy moments and trying times. I credited my gift of humor to him in our Lifetime Television interview, scheduled to air Tuesday, June 21st on their morning talk show, The Balancing Act, at 7am (ET/PT). A link to the teaser: http://www.thebalancingact.com/video/?v=CHS56QHE203174.

And let's not forget my wonderful husband on Father's Day:



Ed with Jackie and Reagan 2002

 

I fell in love with him for many reasons: his looks (honesty is my curse!!), his beautiful smile, his calming effect, his kindness, and his loyalty. We met the third day of my freshman year of college, and we never looked back. I wasn't looking for a husband, much less the father of my children. But I know a good thing when I see it.



With Maddie, our baby, 2005

 I first fell for the man, but I fall harder every day because of the father and husband he is. His family comes first. Laid back in most things, I've seen him agonize over decisions involving our family and his precious girls.

I'd like to take credit for picking a great father, but luck was on my side. Girls, especially, learn so much from their fathers. It takes a special man to give girls those gold threads.

My husband has always been hands-on; he changed many a diaper and makes school lunches almost every morning. He rarely misses an event. My girls will someday have their dad-cloth, and I know all too well what comfort it brings.

Thanks to all the dads out there, and Happy Father's Day!

What's your fondest memory with your dad?