Thursday, August 30, 2007


Dad's Advice


Back on April 17, my Dad's birthday, I sent email to my brother and sisters, asking them what was the best advice Dad ever gave them? I told them I would put it all together and post it on my blog as a sort of birthday present for Dad. Well, of course, it took a couple weeks to hear back from everybody..., then it was on the back burner for a bit..., then the timing didn't seem quite right when Grandma died in late May..., then I didn't have time to get it done by Father's day... on and on and here we are in late August and Dad's in the hospital from a heart attack and none of us quite knows what to expect.

We all love you, Dad and are rooting for you to pull through this and hang out with us a while longer. I want you to know that I love you and I appreciate your passion, your smile, your laughter, your music and your love. For me, the good outweighs the bad in the end, and I'm glad you are my Dad.

And now, here's what your kids have to say:

The best advice Dad ever gave me was...

  • When the side of the beer can says not to operate machinery, that includes snowblowers.

  • When it gets cold in the house, put a sweater on.

  • When there's not much to eat in the house, peanut butter and onion sandwiches taste like filet mignon.

  • Plaid flannel and wool socks are good any season.

  • It's always noon somewhere.

  • Unconditional love.

  • Leave the campsite (and the world) in better condition than you found it.

  • Don't pee into the wind.

  • Don't talk with your mouth full. (This story is famous, I think Dad tells and retells it...)

  • You can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friend's nose...


  • ...and:

    I know it's not advice, but teaching me to fish was probably the best thing that Dad has given me. (That, and a roof over my head for the first 22 years of my life!) Actually, almost anything outdoors that I like to do I can thank the old man for. I appreciate the fact he took the time to teach me to enjoy nature instead of plopping me in front of a television w/ an Atari joystick! Love ya pop!

    We all love you, Dad. Get better, ok?