Sunday, June 16, 2013

Father, Dad, Pops, Daddy, PapPap

This man stood for something.
Many somethings.
Many someones.

He never drove past a broken down car,
or walked past a stranger who seemed to 
be in trouble or need help.
He was the first to shovel out the neighbors
who could not do it for themselves.
Sometimes it delayed a family 
vacation for  hours,
but we were told to understand 
why it mattered to him,
and to those he helped.

He believed that neighbors should be good
ones and he was always the first to plan 
and throw the block parties of summer.

He believed children should learn
 the honor of working hard
and to love God, country and family.

He never lied or cheated 
and he expected 
truth and decency from those he 
loved, worked with and for.

We did not always measure up 
to his high standards and were fearful
of the repercussions
but we were always forgiven
and always loved.

He was a man of honor and upon his 
death I discovered a box brimming with 
notes from strangers and friends
 he had helped over many years.
No one had known about most of them.

In our small town it was 
a privilege to be the "daughter of"
and also difficult to hide 
any shenanigans or bad behavior
because he was so well known.
I was frequently caught,
punished and learned lessons.

He taught me to fish and made me put the worm 
on the hook myself...every time
He taught me to run a table saw,
a drill, and a sander.
Long before Martha, he showed
me the proper way to iron a shirt
 and put a crease in pants.
I learned to paint walls, refinish furniture,
unclog a toilet and sink, cook, 
mop a floor the "Navy" way,
 mow the lawn, ride a bike, and sled down 
We worked the garden together,
each summer we had one,
and I know how to build a proper campfire.
I learned to check the oil, drive a car,
pitch a tent in the right spot, and change a tire.
I was made to save 50% of my allowance,
tithe 10%, and balance my checkbook.

He never betrayed his wife,
his children, or family or friends.


When he faced his fourth cancer,
he decided to let his God decide
when he should go, and refused all treatment.
I cannot imagine anyone facing death with
less fear than he did.
He was certain what lay ahead and I believe 
he was anxious to see his mom and dad again.

You see Robert Rennie
was a quiet man of honor also
and he taught his children well.
One of them just happened to be my 
dad, David.
I love you 


Kathy said...

What a remarkable person! I can hear his many lessons in your voice and I think it must feel good to come from such solid stock.
Your son looks very much like him.

Tracey Broome said...

I learned many things from my dad, just like you and cancer took him from me way too soon. Maybe our dads will bump into each other up there one day and chat about us :-)
Father's Day is bittersweet for me since he left.....
Hugs to you on this day!

Marcela para Colorin Colorado said...

What a beautiful post for a wondeful person. I'm sure your Dad would be proud of your words.

Nella said...

Dear Suz....possibly the most beautiful Father's Day tribute I have ever read....or about one,, period!! You look just like handsome he was.....N.xo

June said...

Such a wonderful tribute to your dad Z. I love this photo of him...I can see you in his eyes my dear!
muchos love...

Faded Charm said...

I enjoyed this and can tell how much you admired your Dad just by reading it. What a good man and I think his daughter takes after him in many ways:-)

Hope you have a wonderful week.


Lana said...

Beautiful, Z.

Theresa Hein said...

What a beautiful tribute. You have been blessed beyond measure to have such a loving dad. It shows in the woman you are.
Have a wonderful weekend! love,t.xoxo

Jackie said...

Wow, that is a wonderful tribute. I wish the world had more fathers like him.

Curtains in My Tree said...

DJR was very handsome back in the day also

I miss the days gone by when all our neighbors were just like your Dad

c. Joy said...

He sounds like a wonderful person. I hate to be so superficial but what a Looker! He was handsome. Thanks for sharing your story.

Jenny Woolf said...

Your dad has such a nice face. I would have been predisposed to like him for that kind expression in his eye.