Dad

Every Sunday after milking, my Dad would buy 7 or 8 Sunday papers (the Utica Observer Dispatch) and deliver them to family members on the hill where we lived. It was his chance to get out, see his brothers, nieces and nephews, and spend a few happy hours gossiping (or playing basketball with Uncle Bob's boys - but that is another post). Sunday was always a day to relax - as it should be.

Dad would always take us kids with him. There eventually were seven of us. One didn't need car seats in those days, and besides, he could charm his way out of a DWI if he had to. Not that he did, but it was a different time. Dad was highly regarded in the community and well loved by everyone. Anyway, part of the fun for us kids on these Sunday jaunts would be singing songs. We'd sing Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer or Jingle Bells, but I think our favorite was "Teddy Bear Picnic". We'd start off softly, "Watch me catch them unawares..." spying on the teddy bears, then the crescendo would gather as we sang about the fun the teddy bears were having; "They never have an-neee CARES!"
Then as the teddy bears had to go home to bed "because they're tired little te...deee....beeeearrrrs" we'd whisper again. If we weren't singing, he was telling us about Goldilocks and the three bears. Every. Single. Week. The patience of the man was almost endless.

No matter how tired he was after working 18 hours running the farm, at night, if we asked him to read to us, he would. I remember one book in particular - it was a "3D" or hologram version of Cinderella. That, or he'd again tell us the Three Bears story. That was a favorite - we delighted in Dad's attempts to imitate the archetypical family ensemble, from Papa Bear to baby bear. Mama bear always made us howl.

Point is (besides this ridiculous glimpse of my childhood) is to never underestimate the impact you will have on the lives of your children. The smallest act of love and being there will stay with them long after you have passed on and they are raising their own children.