What Is The Best Advice Your Dad Has Given To You

June 19, 2016

“My father gave me the greatest gift anyone could give another person, he believed in me.” – Jim Valvano

During Mother’s Day, I reached out to a handful of friends and asked them to contribute to my Blog. You can read that Here. The whole process was so enlightening and inspiring that I decided to do the same for Dads, but switch it up a bit.

On Friday, I shared This Post. It was a tribute to my own father. A man that I do not thank or appreciate enough. This morning I awoke, kissed my husband and told him “Happy Father’s Day,” opened Facebook and found out that one of my friends lost her husband last night. He a father, a great father, I witnessed him in action. My heart broke and the sudden heaviness on my chest seemed much more overwhelming as I sat and thought about his children who would awaken this morning without the earthly presence of their Dad. While I pray for them today and send positive thoughts out to the universe, I know so many of you too will read this Blog as a “fatherless child.”

I do not know your pain. I do not know the emptiness you feel. Whether it be a sudden loss, a father who has passed for many years, a father who is alive but you are estranged from, know that today while you pass the greeting card aisle, see a family out at breakfast, open Facebook to a flood of messages and pictures, know that I am thinking of you.

Those who are blessed to still have their Dad with them today, please call him, visit him or send him a text. Say “I love you,” say “I appreciate you” and please say “thank you.”

As a mother, I know the sacrifices and love I make for my child. Watching my husband with her, well the love and sacrifices he makes for our family is equally as tremendous. And, also as a parent, I finally feel like a fog is lifted from my eyes and I see just how much my parents have given through the years and how incredibly their love has been.

So today, Happy Father’s Day Friends and to my Blog contributors – Thank you.

I asked each friend below to answer the following:

“What is the best advice your Dad has given to you?”

The answers, well, you just have to read!

“When asked ‘What is the best advice your Dad has ever given you?’ I really didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t think of a time when my dad sat me down and said, ‘Here is some advice to live by.’ The more I thought about it, the more I realized that my dad has given me a lifetime of advice without saying a word. The whole, “actions speak louder than words” rings true. In my life, my dad has advised me to work hard for every single penny you have, that those same pennies mean nothing at the end of the day, to make good on your promises even when jumping ship feels like the easy way out, to be true to yourself and never apologize for that, to admit it when you are wrong, to always say you’re sorry, to never settle for ‘good enough,’ to always help those in need, and to laugh like heck every step of the journey. My Daddy has never had to give me any advice, I’ve always been blessed to watch his actions and simply know, this is how you live.” – Mallory

“My Dad gave advice by example. He would tell me to be kind, sensitive to others, generous and do what’s right. Of course, that’s how he lives his life. The best advice he gave my brother, ‘I don’t care if you want to dig ditches the rest of your life. Just be the best ditch digger you can be.’ And, I have to share two from my husband’s Dad, ‘Don’t ever get a financial advisor. If they know so much about money, they’d be retired.’ And, my favorite, on the occasion of our first date, ‘Just remember, pick your nose with your right hand and scratch your butt with your left.’ That man was a character.’ – Michaela

“My Dad and I are cut from the same cloth. The older I get, the more similarities I find. As you can see from the picture and our incredible sense of style, lol. My Dad is the most inspirational man on the planet. He dreams big, fights for what he believes in and never gives up. All while maintaining a big belly laugh that makes you feel at home every time you hear it. I call him the “Big Fish” because he reminds me so much of Dad from the movie, “The Big Fish.” The best advice he ever gave me, and there have been some gems, is that ‘Failure is not an option.’ Anytime I was afraid of making a leap of faith in life, love, or business he would just tell me to believe and that if I believe, I can’t fail, then anything is possible. He is 100% right. Anytime the “what if” worry trolls start to creep in I just repeat that phrase and know that I can overcome and find success. I love this man more everyday and feel honored to call him my Father, my mentor, and one of my best friends.” – Coty

“Okay, it was hard to choose what the best advice has been since all of his advice has helped to shape who I am but I’ll go with this. My Papa many times has said, ‘Live your life honestly, be true to those you love and always follow what it is that makes you who you are. (…and clean your room!).’ Ha! He’s our favorite storyteller, a forever friend, and our hero!” – Deanna

Look out there…
“My father was a large man. My mother referred to him as a ‘gentle giant.’ His large posture and huge hands had many young suitors of his daughter’s shaking in their shoes. I was the youngest of his five children and due to the large age gap from my closest sibling, quite possibly an “Oops!” I was; however, definitely daddy’s little girl. I remember my dad taking me kicking and screaming in his big, strong arms and walking me calmly into the Atlantic Ocean. He finally stopped waist deep and told me to stop crying and ‘look out there.’ I did and it was amazing. A few years later he took me on a Ferris Wheel. Once again, I was screaming because we were stuck at the top. He giggled softly and told me to take my hands away from my face and ‘look out there.’ I did and it was awesome. Fast forward to my teens and my father was teaching me to drive. Half way through the stressful lesson when all I did was stare at the road, he placed his hand on my shoulder and told me to ‘look out there.’ I did and it was easier. I didn’t realize it at the time but my father didn’t want me to live my life with my head down. He didn’t want me to be too scared, too serious or too focused. He wanted me to stop worrying and enjoy the people, places and experiences around me no matter how big or small. I still struggle to follow his advice in my busy life. I do find that I have missed a lot because I didn’t ‘look out there.’ But I will be forever grateful that he told me to ‘look out there’ and I hope I can pass this advice on to my children.” – Joy

“My Dad was an amazing, amazing man. I know many people will say this today, especially since its Father’s Day and I’m sure they mean it also, but anyone who knew my Dad will tell you this is absolutely true. I don’t know of one person that did not like him nor do I know of anyone that he disliked. I never heard him speak a harsh word about anyone. In my entire life I never saw him mad or angry. I don’t know of any other person I can say that about. He was so kind and compassionate. He chose to talk about the good in people. He had patience beyond words. He was never to busy for you. He gave you his undivided attention. I’ll tell you a little story about this. My Dad use to work on his vehicles in his garage. A little neighborhood boy whose father had died would come down to his house and for hours would lay on the ground with my Dad under his car asking questions. ‘What’s this? What’s that? What does this do? What does that do?’ On, and on. My Dad explained everything in great detail to him. My Mom would say to my Dad, ‘How can you stand that day after day? All those same questions?’ My Dad would reply, ‘It’s ok, Honey, he just needs someone to talk to. He’s just lonely.’ My Dad was a very funny guy also. He loved to play jokes on people. He loved to scare the living day lights out of you. I can still hear his laugh. He was a huge Washington Redskins fan. He loved picnics, amusement parks and especially riding the roller coasters. He loved going camping with his kids and grandkids. Sometimes spending the entire summer at the river with his family. Christmas was his favorite holiday. He was like a sorcerer working his magic. When we were kids the tree was never brought into the house until we were all in bed on Christmas Eve. By morning it looked like a mystical, magical farmland. The tree decorated from top to bottom and a Christmas yard under the tree that was so detailed it looked like a live village. There were houses, churches, stores and roads made from coal dust. A train that ran on a track (THIS ONE IS FOR YOU, ASHLI) a mirror for a pond. Still to this day, I don’t know how he got it all done in one night. He was a Veteran. He served in the Army during World War II. He was loyal. He kept the same friends he served in the war with his entire life. He was a honest, hard working man that never missed a day of work. He was a Christian and he put God and his family above everything. His parenting skills surpass all others. He taught us to love unconditionally and we learned this by following his example. Oh! By the way, he always smelled so good! I still have a bottle of his after shave lotion. Sometimes I open it up and just breath the scent of him in and at that moment I know he’s right here beside me. The one thing he taught me, and I learned this by his example, was to love unconditionally. I hope I have passed this down to my kids and grandkids. There is a song that says, “I’d like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony.” If this was my Dad’s song, it would say “I’d like to teach the world to love in perfect harmony.” HAPPY FATHERS DAY DADDY! Love you!” – Pat (my Meema)
How beautiful? Again, thank you to my special Blog contributors. Much love to you! And, to you all, no matter where your heart feels today, I send you virtual hugs and love.

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How The World’s Quietest Man, Taught Me The World’s Loudest Lessons

June 17, 2016

Father’s Day weekend is here and I thought it would be fitting to carve out some time and some space on the internet to honor my Dad. Although, it is kind of funny though, as my Dad really deep down despises the internet and social media because he can’t stand walking into a room and seeing his family, with their ‘noses all in their phones and faces down.’ As a marketing professional with a strong grasp on all things social media and digitally related, he still to this day, eight years into my career, cannot fully understand what I do or how it impacts business.

I have had countless conversations on what Twitter is versus Facebook and the definition of a ‘Tweet’ and how it all works. He knows I have this Blog but cannot fully grasp what a ‘Blog’ is or why I would ever spend my free time doing this. He has questioned why we (as in his family) are so obsessed with our phones, and then when I say, ‘This is the way the world now communicates with each other and businesses.” He scowls and explains, “Well, I don’t.”

It is ultimately funny that I sit here writing about communication when my father is a man of very little words. Let me repeat for you, very little words.

Growing up we knew no different, but I would be remiss if I didn’t share how I realized in elementary school just how little he spoke, when I would have sleepovers at friends’ houses. One girlfriend had a Dad who was always the life of our get-together. You knew it was her birthday party each year, as he would march through the house starting a Kongo line and yelling for us each to join in. Another friend’s Dad was such an integral part of her life, that he was the one we called in High School to pick us up outside dances and parties, and when we pilled in the car he would entertain and crack us up the whole way home.

My father was different.

We picked on him, and still do for his lack of words. With that said, I never questioned his love for me or involvement, because he showed his emotions through other means. When I would want to sit for hours with my Mom rehashing every detail of a major accomplishment, all I needed from Dad, was eye contact and a quick ‘proud of you’ and I was content. He attended every major high school football, soccer and basketball game… to watch me cheer on the sidelines. He made me learn to drive a stick shift and as I whined and pouted, “I cannot do this.” He gritted his teeth and yelled back, “Yes, you can.” Then on my 17th birthday, he woke me up extra early and said, ‘Let’s practice driving a manual again.” Only to lead me, from the passenger seat, to a local car dealership to test drive an automatic. Then as we pulled back in the dealership, he simply stated “Happy Birthday, Ashli.”

When I graduated from High School, I rushed around like an idiot trying to get ready for the big night so I could go meet my friends for a pre-ceremony celebration. As he tried to stop me multiple times in our home, I was too selfish to give the man who said so little any time of day. Then he slipped a piece of paper in my hand, and as I waited for my friends in a grocery store parking lot I cried like a baby at the hand written note he had given me, praising me and expressing his love.

My Dad had placed emphasis on me to be an architect, something to this day, I still regret not doing. Buying into his urging, we agreed I would attend the local college for one year and then transfer to the state university for Architectural school. When I fell in love with theater my freshman year of college, I unveiled my new plans to my Dad, on the stage of a state Beauty Pageant competition. As he sat in the crowd watching me, with a big button of my face, attached to his shirt, the announcer read the pre-submitted cue cards, in which mine stated, “A theatre major.” Shortly, after defeat and facing my father in the hotel hallway, he hugged me, kissed my forward, told me I should have won and quietly said, “theatre, huh?”

Then, when I fell in love and soon my wedding day starred us both in the face, he stayed in the background for pre-planning. Shining as the unsung hero who somehow was able to arrange a seating chart to accompany 175 people in a tiny red barn. As we lined up for the procession, and the violinist played softly in the background, I knew he sensed that I felt a bit faint and suddenly incoherent. I remember distinctly my father saying to the nearest bridesmaid, “Get her a glass of wine.” As, the bridal party walked out of the house and through the field to our wedding guests, we stayed back a moment longer. I sipped the wine and starred my father in the eyes. Little words. But a private moment I will always cherish.

I remember not to long ago someone said, “Your Dad does not speak much, but when he does, we all listen.”

I agreed, but while I always listened, I didn’t always appreciate. For that, I am sorry, Dad. But as I near 30 years old in August (Yikes!), I finally, finally do. My Dad has taught me the following about life.

America was built by hard working individuals, who made a lot of sacrifices in life for the betterment of others. Respect that and them, and more importantly honor that, by in turn giving your all every single day, always working hard.
Save your money! Gosh, I remember thinking I hated him for this. After ever birthday party, “Ebenezer Scrooge” would make a grand appearance, with a palm open. I would have to hand over any money I received as a gift and he would count it in front of me. Then promptly hand me back half. He would explain that the other half would go into my savings account he opened and would in turn be mine when I turned 18 years old. I remember crying. Screaming, “These are birthday gifts. You want the half of my Barbie too!” He really never argued back, more just walked away, but not without hearing me scream, “This is not fair!” (By the way, he kept his word, and at 18 years old, I received access to my account.) I miraculous, loved my father again!
Speaking of fair. He taught me just that… life is not and will never be fair. Learn it and accept it.
Sacrifice. With five kids, I sometimes to this day get mad at him for working so hard and sacrificing so much, and feel saddened that he truly doesn’t live. But, I am starting to believe that to him living means watching his five kids enjoy life and be happy.
Contribute to a 401k. Even if you make little to nothing and you think you need every dollar. Put something away for retirement.
That the best things in life are sweets! You can totally eat 12 cookies, a large piece of cake and a slice of pie in one seating! He does it all the time.
You can always get by in life with far less than you currently have.
You always, always have a choice in life. This was a recent, new, tough lesson from him. As tears rolled down my face over some tough decisions, he coldly told me, “You are not allowed to cry in front of me over this.” You are in control here. You have a choice.
Sometimes it is best to remain quiet. 🙂 That not everything needs your opinion.
And, finally his favorite line – “Accept what you can not change, change what you can not accept, and have the wisdom to know the difference.”

Powerful lessons from the man who would nod his head at the game scoring touchdown, vs leap off his stadium seat screaming. A man who bites his nail and mumbles a chuckle, while the rest of a room erupts in laughter over comic relief. A man who subtly tells you, “Drop the p,” when you hand him a card with “Grandpap” written on the front, to announce how he wants his first grandchild to address him.

You, see I grew up through this life with a man who spoke few words… but generated loud messages, loud lessons. It wasn’t until I became an adult and maybe even a parent that the weight of his quiet presence, all through my life, has been felt.

Thank you, Dad. Thank you for big lessons, tough love and your steady presence through my life. And, Happy Father’s Day!

Happy First Father’s Day

June 21, 2015

I have an amazing Dad myself. I have told you before. To me he just gets better with time, because as our memories grow, so does my appreciation and love. Although, today, I want to also celebrate my husband, because today is his first Father’s Day. I tell him he is a great Dad, and maybe he knows. One look at our Baby Lo as she grins at him and we all can see her love for her Daddy. While she can’t quite tell him how she feels, if she could, I think it would go like this.

I came into this world like a flurry. I am pretty sure you and Mom were scared, because so was I. All of a sudden the only world I ever knew changed. We had never set eyes on each other before, but I heard your voice so much that when I entered the world and saw those bright shining lights, scary equipment and strangers with masks mumbling, I screamed, no I wailed, until they handed me to you.

I could hear Momma and your voices and I scanned a room full of people looking for you. Wanting to meet you both. When you came to my side while the nurses weighed and cleaned me up, I immediately felt okay. You were the first one I locked eyes with.

Since Momma could not hold me, you were the first one in this world to do so. Others in the hospital room passed me around until the nurses placed me in your arms, it was you who truly, lovingly held me, because I was your own. Soon, you took me to Mom and I could finally place faces to the voices I heard for so many months. You and Momma. I was home.

Thank you, Daddy. You were the first one by my side before I even could comprehend that I needed someone. When they took me from Mom to the nursery, you followed and waited patiently and carefully alongside me. You took me to the window, so proud, and held me up to meet my family, our family. And, when we finally got the okay to go you took me back to really get to meet my Momma and so willingly handed me off for her to cuddle and love, even though I know you equally wanted me in your arms.

You took me on my first car ride, as we left the hospital a few days later to head to our home. I am sure you were nervous as you drove just two people in that car days before. You were patient, gentle, kind and loving as together as a family of three we learned and defined our new world. From my first Christmas, to my first bath, from my first snowstorm to my first laugh.

As your first born, you have become a pro as you learned to feed me, change me, bathe me and put me to sleep. It has been six months since the day I first laid eyes on you and I have not stopped. If my first words, “Da Da” are not enough, it is pretty obvious that I am your girl. Just like the morning when I was born and I searched through strangers to find the face to the voice to whom I belong, to this day, when I hear your voice in a crowded room, I stop and look for you.

Today is your first Father’s Day and I just want to thank you for all the firsts you have given me. You are a caring Daddy and I am a lucky little girl. Since, I can’t really tell you how I feel, please know that my morning smiles and late night snuggles will have to do until the day I can finally say, “I love you,” for the first time.

Happy Father’s Day! Love your, Baby Lo.

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