A father is a thing that is forced to endure childbirth without an anesthetic. A father never feels entirely worthy of the worship in a child's eyes. He's never quite the hero his daughter thinks he is, never quite the man his son believes him to be -- and this worries him, sometimes. So he works too hard to try to smooth the rough places in the road for those of his own who will follow him. A father is a thing that gets very angry when school grades aren't as good as he thinks they should be. He scolds his son though he knows it's the teacher's fault. Fathers give daughters away to other men who aren't nearly good enough so they can have grandchildren who are smarter than anybody's. Fathers make bets with insurance companies about who will live the longest. Though they know the odds, they keep right on betting. And one day they lose. I don't know where a father goes when he dies. But I've an idea that after a good rest, wherever it is, he won't be happy unless there's work to do. He won't just sit on a cloud and wait for the girl he's loved and the children she bore. He'll be busy there, too, repairing the stairs, oiling the gates, improving the streets, smoothing the way. ~ Paul Harvey ~  |
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