Ahah!! Gotcha! For a second there did you imagine me with a little Julio Eglasias’ wig on my head? I dedicate this post to my Dad-Dad, my Step-Dad and then a good friend from college’s Dad, who was there for me in my crazy, crazy “yout”. Happy Father’s Day to all of “Youse”!

I’ve already shared some stories about my Dad but I don’t think I have told y’all one of the most important, un-fun tasks that he took over many years ago after a serious operation (spleenectomy) which left me wearing a bag from my side for about a month. This bag was like having your innards on your outards and had to be kept antiseptically clean at all times. At the time, Dad was working at his top notch job at the Embassy in Belgium and would come home every night after work to care for me and my “bag”. He carried out that lovely chore for about a month. Luckily, everything healed properly and I’ve been bag-less for years…but I will always be grateful to my Dad for the care he gave me then. Of course, he made me (and anyone within spitting distance) laugh about the straits I was in at the time too…which helped even though it hurt like hell to laugh with my side open like that!

My step-father didn’t come into my life until my early twenties. He’s a Geology Professor, actually he’s a Vulcanologist if you want to get real technical about it, among other things. I will always be grateful to him for taking on my mother (sorry ma, but you know it’s true!) and for his gentle being and great sense of humor. Hiking through the countryside or driving through it in a car is always fascinating with him because he always educates (in a fun way…) about the rocks and the terrain and the history. Between him and my mother you really don’t have to Google anything because they have it all right there between their ears ready to share with you. He’s quite the gentle giant (six foot four) and very good with animals. It’s hard to pick one thing that I like best about him, I’ll just leave it at saying I’m grateful he’s in our lives. Somewhere during his years of teaching he decided to explore pottery and so began throwing a little clay here and a little clay there and before you knew it, he’d gone ahead and built a kiln and I kid you not when I tell you that every time I go to visit them in West, Texas I steal a quick look for new treasures that he’s made and left in the garage to cure that I can take back home with me. I’ve go to say though one of his most favorite traits to me is that mid-way through his sixties, he will still blush if the moment calls for it. That’s tells you something about the genuine character of a person right there if you ask me.

The last “Dad” I want to acknowledge is one of my best friend’s from college. He moved to the U.S. from Syria when he was a young budding Engineer (I think I’ve got that part of it right) and ended up marrying a feisty Irish American woman with red hair like Lucille Ball and having four handsome boys and one beautiful daughter. My friend’s parents lived in Dallas which was about 45 minutes or so from where we went to college in a small (then) nearby town so of course you know that we would travel “home” for the weekends to party all night long and lay out by the pool during the day. I remember one of those weekends in particular when I was laying out by the pool trying to get a solid gold tan like Zonker when my friend’s Dad came strolling out by the pool. He was not a very big man, but he was a proud passionate man. He kept fussing with this and that around the pool and finally he got my attention and said, “Lynn, we want you to know that if you need any help we are happy to help you”. This was the summer after my freshman year of college when I flamed out royally and my Dad had rightly cut his purse strings. I was totally inept at taking care of myself and that whole summer this family and another friends’ family took care of me with groceries all summer long. I should be so ashamed of myself, but I was so clueless that I had no idea the levels that I had sunken too. Suffice it to say, this particular friend’s family always made me feel good about myself and treated me with respect…..no matter my helplessness. We had some great passionate discussions over family breakfast with loads of coffee on the weekends. I had no idea at the time just how precious those memories would be to me.

So today when the U.S. celebrates Father’s Day, I think of all the special “Dad’s” in my life and how grateful and blessed I am. To all the men I’ve loved as Dads, thank you.