I know I’ve written about by my dad in the past.  Today on Father’s Day, somehow, even though he’s been gone well over 20 years, I’m missing him more.  I am also celebrating that I had an amazing dad who taught me well.

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My dad was a CPA and showed my brother, sister and me the importance of hard work and always doing a good job.  By the age of 14, I was fully ensconced in helping with some of his accounts by doing entries on ledgers (no Excel spreadsheet or Quickbooks back then) and even preparing payroll for a local small restaurant each week.  I appreciate that I learned the value to a job well done from him.  It somehow was translated in my mind as “what I do is who I am” though.  Recent conversations with my siblings confirm similar beliefs about ourselves.  Maybe not such a bad thing.

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Dad taught us what he was taught.  He was the product of a father who was a CPA, the youngest of a large sibship, raised by his siblings when their parents died.  His mother was from an the elite Hulvey family from Sweetwater, Tennessee, whose homestead is a historical landmark along with the Tennessee Military Institute her father, Colonel Otey Crawford Hulvey, ran.

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And, maybe, just maybe, if more people did their best, no matter how routine, mundane, or repetitive our jobs may seem, the world would be a better place.

When I think of Dad, I remember all the good things because there were so very few bad things.  He was honest, hardworking, loving, kind, super smart, loyal, funny, and fun.

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He taught me to love the Steelers and the Pirates!  He passed on his great baseball abilities to his grandchildren.  Hardly a disciplinarian, but always an inspiration.  He made me want to be a better person.

I had moved away from home in 1978, and would only see dad once or twice a year.  I didn’t run home each time he had a health crisis.  Our family wasn’t that way, plus, I went through ten years of childbearing, and travel was not on the agenda.  The song The Living Years makes me cry every time, since I wasn’t there when Dad passed away, and I do believe I’ve heard my dad’s echo in my newborn baby’s tears.

Last, but not least, I’d like to acknowledge that my dad set the bar high.  I’ve spent years lamenting that my six children missed having a dad like mine.  Truth is – they are one in a million.