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.

Veracity = V: Blogging from A to Z

Not only did Mom and I co-author Depression Cookies, but she's a frequent guest here. She's the reason I love writing and reading, and I credit her with so much of who I am.

But, I wanted to use V to talk about Dad. Both my parents are super-honest people, but Dad was the one who really drove the importance of veracity ("devotion to the truth") home. We are all human, and we all lie on occasion. Yet, I try with every fiber of my being to be honest and truthful with people.

However, that doesn't mean I am compelled to go spouting my truth to anyone who will listen. As Dad often said, "I try not to ever lie, but that doesn't mean I go blabbing the truth."

Plus, there's an important element to truth that we should all consider: my truth may not be yours. I may strongly believe in something, hold it as truth in my heart, but that does not mean someone else believes the same. Truth is in the mind of the beholder, and it's easy to manipulate or evade. Not to mention, if you lie to yourself long enough, doesn't it become your truth?

Growing up, my dad often said:

You have the audacity
to doubt my veracity
to insinuate
that I might prevaricate.

Few things insult me more than someone telling me I'm lying, particularly my children. I tell them they can always expect the truth from me. Then my daughter pointed out the "Santa lie" as proof that I don't. I really had to ponder that one.

So, now I'm even more honest with my children. I tell them I will always do what I think is in their best interest, and will always give them direct and honest answers to their questions. Santa, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter bunny fall into the "don't go blabbing the truth" idea.

To further complicate veracity, I think little white lies that protect people's feelings are justified. ("No, you don't look fat in that dress.")

So after all this talk about being devoted to the truth, I sure seem to have come up with many exceptions to the rule.

What does veracity mean to you?

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?