Tag Archives: father

Day 166: Dad

Dad and me doing renovations at the cabin on New Year's Eve 2014.

Dad and me doing renovations at the cabin on New Year’s Eve 2014.

June 15th is the Worldwide Day of Giving! It’s a day that I helped start 5 years ago after embarking on a year-long journey of micro-philanthropy. Hopefully you will consider some form of altruistic giving today.

Today, my letter is to my father. As much as I tease him about his quirkiness (he tethers his phone and wallet to his clothes so he doesn’t loose them), he’s a amazing man and incredible Dad. He’s supported me, listened to me, believed in me and loved me unconditionally for 41 years. I’m thankful for him every day, but Father’s Day is a special time to recognize everything he has done and continues to do for our family.

Thank you Dad. I love you very much.

Day 166

Dear Dad,

If you take route 7 west past Reedsville (I like that town) to Morgantown and then pick up I-79 south for about 20 miles you’ll discover the small city of Fairmont, WV along the banks of the Monongahela River. It was there in July of 1908 that the first Father’s Day was celebrated. It was held in honor of the more than 200 fathers who lost their lives in the Monogah Mining disaster of 1907.

Day 166-2I’ve got tickets to see the Pirates farm team, the West Virginia Black Bears, take on the Cleveland Indians’ Mahoning Valley Scrappers Sunday afternoon. I thought we could have lunch in Fairmont and then catch the game. How does that sound?

Happy Father’s Day! I love you very much.

Sunday Letters: a letter from my Dad

Today I’m sharing a letter my father wrote me this week. It’s these kind of letters you keep forever.

I love you Dad!

photo: Jerry Sandridge

photo: Jerry Sandridge

Dear Reed

Your Day 34 letter moved me greatly. Those 41 words that Steve Carell wrote could have just as easily come out of your mouth. Your Mom sent you many handwritten letters and I know how much you miss them. I’ve never been much for writing letters. I’ll try to do better, but they won’t be the same — they won’t have that beautiful, flowing penmanship that she had. They won’t have those quaint phrases that you and your brother loved so much. And I doubt if I can match her upbeat spirit. But hey … it’s a start.

Love You,