Happy Father’s Day to all those great men who shepherd their progeny through the formative years and beyond. Your influence on your children is enormous and felt throughout their lifetimes. Thank you. You are, in many ways, the architects of the future, helping to mold young minds and hearts to take their places in our human society.

Happy Father’s Day to my husband, who has stayed the course with our three children, all adults now. He was there for every school event, every teacher conference, recital, and concert, every soccer and baseball game, even coaching for many years. He takes seriously his role, his responsibility of being a dad beyond providing for the essential physical needs, food, shelter, and clothes. He extended that fidelity to our grandson, who grew up in a one-parent home. Our daughter does an amazing job being the all-around parent, but Henry appreciates having a Grandpa to help guide him, talk about guy things, and give him tips on golf and baseball. Thank you, Ken.

I had a friend who was a jet fighter pilot. As needed in his profession, he had a strong ego, a decisive personality, and many stories to tell about daring deeds. Once, when I asked him what he valued most in all his experiences, he said, “Making memories with my kids. Every day, I try to make at least one memory with each one of them.” He recognized the impact he had on the future and took it seriously. I admire him more for that than any of his brave military exploits. Thank you, Rick.

I’ve written many times of my relationship with my father. It was never expressed during his lifetime, overtly, effusively, or loudly. He was my friend without making a big deal of it. He was my counselor without lectures or making it obvious. He was my dad in every way. A witty, happy-go-lucky guy on the outside, he had lots of demons on the inside. He was powerfully affected by his service as a gunner on a bomber in the European theater of WWII. He received shock treatments for depression when he returned from overseas. He told my mother the only thing he wanted when he was well was to have a baby girl. Mom obliged. I fulfilled his wish.

To my recollection, he never discussed the war in any way. I didn’t learn about his part in the war until after he was dead. Mom said he told her that he wanted to see Germany from the ground someday. He flew many missions over that country, dropping bombs of destruction. He saw how beautiful the country was from the heights of an airplane and, after the war, wanted to visit it in peace. He never did. However, in 1978, ten years after he died, Mom and I went to Germany in his place to witness the peace and beauty of the country. We took a cruise down the Rhine River from Koblenz to Rudesheim, paying homage to my father’s memory.

I remember one day in May, when I was seven, I took home a fancy Mother’s Day card that I made at school. My mom showed it to Dad. When my dad thought I was out of earshot, he said, “I wonder why she never makes me a Father’s Day card?” That hit me hard. We didn’t make Father’s Day cards at school. I’m not sure why. But from that day on, I made sure he had a Father’s Day card, created by me each year. I knew it was important to him.

I was horse-obsessed as a child. I had books and books filled with horse stories, The Black Stallion, Misty of Chincoteague, Marguerite Henry’s Book of Horses, to name a few that I remember.  I dreamed horses. My dad bought me countless statues of horses, plastic ones, china ones, carved wooden ones, and cloth ones. When he went on business trips, he always brought back a horse or two for me. I remember a gorgeous pair of china horses, cream colored with gold manes and tails, that he brought to me from a trip to the East Coast. He named them Prince and Grace because it was the year Grace Kelly married the Prince of Monaco. My collection grew and grew with each Christmas and birthday. I played with farm sets like most girls played with dolls. My mother loved dolls and couldn’t understand why the dolls she bought for me were abandoned and unloved. They kept my attention for maybe an hour, then back to my farm animals, fences, barns, and especially horses.

Dad promised to buy me a horse someday. He was raised on a farm and had Old Nobby, but we always lived in suburban environments with no place for a horse. He made sure I got my horse fix. My parents leased horses from stables and individuals for me to ride. I had riding lessons and as much horse time as they could squeeze into their busy lives.

After I was married and had a baby, my father called one evening to say he had bought a horse for me, just as he had promised so many years earlier. My husband and I lived in a small house on an acre of property that we rented from his parents. We had minimal room for a horse, but horses were allowed on acre properties within the town limits. The horse was a Palouse Welsh pony. Every few years, when the wild horse herds became overpopulated, the State of Washington rounded up dozens and sold them at auction. Dandy, a lively brown and white gelding, was delivered to my door. He was housed in the shed area beside the garage and had full use of the acre. He had been tamed but not broken to ride. I started the process and taught him to take me bareback, but not with a saddle. I put our seven-month-old daughter on his back and led him around the property with no problem. He loved to follow me, like a dog, around the yard. The next step was to teach him saddle manners.

Then I found out I was pregnant again. No more riding or breaking horses. With a new baby coming in January, we decided that we needed a bigger house. We had to move and couldn’t afford acreage. I found a good home for Dandy with a local riding stable that needed a small horse for children’s lessons. Dandy was a perfect fit. I was sad to let my horse go after waiting all that time, but my life was taking a different course. My father understood why I had to sell Dandy, but he was happy that he had bought a horse for me as he promised. Dad died suddenly the following February at the age of 52, a little more than a year after he delivered on his promise. Promise made, promise kept. Thank you, Dad.