My dad was the first person in his family to graduate high school. I'm not sure if his brother or sister ever finished college. He spoke only French til he was 10, in America.
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When I was a kid, about 6 or 7 years old, my mom used to read all the time. She'd always have a new book from the library.
My dad once in a while flipped through a magazine. When you're 6 years old, you keep hearing about how bad illiteracy is and how you need to learn to read. So I assumed my dad didn't know how to read. My sisters and I thought that he just memorized all the books he read to us before bed.
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Every night when I was young, my dad would read a story to me and tuck me in to bed. Although I was pretty old when he stopped tucking me in, I only realized then that I felt safe and warm in bed because he tucked me in.
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I remember my dad's Navy dress uniform, he let me keep his Commander's cap after he retired from the Reserves. I was so afraid during the Gulf War that my dad would be called into active duty - that is what they do to reservists after all.
I remember my dad going down to DC for his 2 week a year deployment. He'd head to this mystical place called "The Crystal City" and he'd always bring us back grapefruit slices. I was so proud that my dad was serving the country and not just his family. Of course, my dad works for a defense contractor, and he's still serving the country.
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My dad built the porch at our house in Bath, and rebuilt the porch at our Harpswell house. He used to do almost everything in the maintenance of my Grandpa's apartment buildings in Bath - build steps, paint ceilings, wire things, work on the plumbing. He landscapes, weeds, seeds & mows the lawn, snow-blows, and builds. He's going to build a lot of the Bethel House, in 3 years (when he's 60).
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My dad was my hockey coach, my soccer coach, my cub scout den leader. He'd wake up at 5:30 on the weekends to bring me to hockey practice, he'd watch me referee games that he didn't have anything to do with. He helped a lot of other kids grow up.
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He's worked at Bath Iron Works for almost 30 years - through ups and downs. Even when he's annoyed with the company, we know he'll retire from there. He's a company man, dedicated and loyal. During the DD-X Project, he worked 65 hour weeks. He still worked around the house, took care of the dogs, and did everything that he had to, and more. He never, ever complained.
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He has never complained about doing things for us, I've never felt unloved by him, and I've always felt safe around him. He's been mad at me before, but because I don't recall him ever being mad at me without reason, it really means a lot to me for him to be proud of me. His trust in me means more.
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When I was a senior, my high school had our parents write us letters to explain how proud of us they are. My mom's letter made me happy - my dad's made me cry. He's the strong, silent type - I never realized how proud of me he is.
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He has taught me the value of people, the value of honesty, simplicity, and purity
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I hope I can grow up to be as selfless as my father. I hope I can raise strong children, show them what it means to give and not to count the costs. He's taught me that "just good enough" isn't enough, and excellent work should be done, even if it's not recognized. He's shown me that sometimes things just have to get done, and complaining won't do anything and won't make me feel better. He's taught me the joy of working with my hands, of building. He's taught me to pick my battles, to give, to love, that sleep is less important than people, that it's not "someone else's problem." He's taught me that drinking a beer on the porch is a darned good way to spend a summer evening. He's taught me a lot on the chair lift and in the car about life.
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I love you dad. Thank you for everything. Happy Father's Day.
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