Trena Eiden

Dads, no matter how amazing you are or how hard you’ve tried, there’ll come a day when those offspring will turn on you and say something about what you’ve done they didn’t like, which may very well have been in their best interest. When this happens, you have a decision to make. You can say what you really want to say, which is, “You know, a dolphin has the intelligence of a 4-year-old, how does it feel to be bested by a marine mammal?” Instead, you’ll say, “I’m sorry you feel that way, but you should know by now that dads are people too, and parents are simply trying to live life for the first time also.” That’ll throw a teenager off, which is almost as good as sitting in the shade with a tall iced tea.  

When our children were young and developed strep throat, I made them get a shot of penicillin. That way I didn’t have to remember pill times, nor send them to school with instructions for the nurse, and the medicine began working instantly. Those shots have caused at least one of our kids to be traumatized, practically ruined for life, and he has never let us forget it.   

One morning, a few months ago, while I was at work, Gar called to say he woke feeling ill and his tonsils had junk on them. He asked if I thought he should go to the doctor? I told him to gargle with salt water several times that day, drink a lot of fluids and take naps. The next morning he went to the doctor and amazingly, he had strep throat. I was shocked. He’s never in 45 years of marriage had strep. Not in all 900 times the kids and I had it. I texted the children, and Tan, our birthed doctor, yes, the doctor, the one who’s very existence was surely scarred forever by making him get an injection as a child, immediately and facetiously texted back, “Well now, I’ll bet Dad is pretty sore from the penicillin shot they gave him.” I calmly answered, “They never offered, and Dad never thought about it.” Then just to trip his trigger I innocently asked, “Do they still give shots?” He sarcastically countered, “They haven’t routinely given shots since the 60s, I think you’ve always had to request them, which you happily did.” I retorted, “I googled it. Doctors all over the world, and on Mars, still give shots.” He ignored me. Then our daughter Lunny, being sincere, but very quick to respond, said, “Poor Dad. Did he get the shot?” I said, “No, it wasn’t offered and he didn’t think to ask, he got pills.” She answered with a laughing face, “Of course he did.” When I told Gar what transpired, and jokingly mused that maybe we were the scourge, devastating them beyond repair, he chortled, then being a father said, “Getting the shot was what made them the men and women they are today.”   

There’s a dad named Rob Kenney, who does YouTube videos titled, “Dad how do I?” He teaches young people, or old, how to do multiple things; tie a tie, change a car battery, buy a home, make pancakes, or use tools. He tells viewers they’re worthy, that he wants them to be overcomers, and encourages them to do what’s right. Mr. Kenney and Gar are a lot alike.  

Being a good dad came naturally to Gar. Our kids have always known he loved them, believed in them and was proud of them. They never had to beg Gar for his time, help or love. He looked for their gifts then tried to guide them in that direction, and was the catalyst for their confidence because they always knew he was a safety net who had their backs. They know that never a day goes by that Gar doesn’t beseech the Lord on their behalf, and their sorrow is his sorrow and their joy, his joy. Basically, a dad is a prisoner of love, toting a generator to a Colorado mountain cabin, power washing a Florida driveway, planting a dozen fruit trees in Texas, and landscaping a Nevada backyard. Just know, if you have kids and you’re doing it right, they’ll never be truly gone and you’ll never be out of a job.  

My favorite dad joke came from a woman who, when she was a teenager and would start whining, her dad would nod and say, “Life is hard and cruel Jane. Life is hard and cruel.”  

Happy Father’s Day.