A Father is the guy who took you to your first Yankee game and sat you in the Bleachers because that was where Mickey Mantle played.
A Father is the guy who just couldn’t wait until December 25th to give you your first set of Lionel Trains and so he gave them to you in October.
A Father is the guy who that same Christmas gave you your Santa Fe diesel three days before Christmas.
A Father is the guy who didn’t get you those Mouseketeer Ears you wanted so badly but came home with the most beautiful red two-wheeler you ever had in your life.
A Father is the guy who didn’t always give you what you wanted but made damn sure you got everything you needed.
A Father is the guy who never uttered a profanity in his life until that day you went missing, and he had to search the neighborhood looking for you.
A Father is the guy who answered ‘steak’ to the question ‘What’s for dinner?’ that you yelled to him up at the window when he was calling you in for dinner because he didn’t want the neighbors to know we were having meatloaf.
A Father is the guy who took you to Ferry Point Park on evenings after he worked all day and then had to flag every fly ball that went to the opposite field he was playing.
A Father is the guy who couldn’t tune a ukulele without breaking a few strings but could sing Ain’t She Sweet like no body’s business.
A Father is the guy who made a weekend without electricity the most magical weekend of a kid’s life.
A Father is the guy who was called The Tasheroo Kid and never explained what that meant.
A Father is the guy who didn’t know the definition of a sick day.
A Father is the guy who saw you sleeping on his living room floor and went out and bought a sofa bed the next day.
A Father is so much more than all the things I have listed, and I am only one of his five children, and if you have been blessed with such a Father, then you have been truly blessed.