"Daddy Needs Your Stories" Father's Day Contest

Thanks to everyone who submitted their amazing Father's Day tales to our 'Daddy Needs Your Stories?' Father's Day Contest. Our winners were (in no particular order): Laurie Emerson from Biloxi, MS; Kimi Little from Hayward, CA; and Jodi Henry from Eugene, OR. Winners received signed paperback copies of DADDY NEEDS A DRINK.

Winning entries:

I have so many favorite Father's Day stories but my favorite one of all is Father's Day of 2005. Our son Peter was in Afghanistan with the Army for a year and our granddaughter Amanda was living with us while he was deployed. I felt as if my heart would break every time I looked at her as she had to be the saddest eleven-year-old in the world and no matter what I did I could not make it all better for her. Her dad would send letters and call when he could but he was in the field most of the time and communication was almost impossible.

Father's Day was approaching and that made it even harder as her school had prepared some special Father's Day events and she felt his absence even more. I have to admit that my husband and I shared her pain and fears but tried so hard not to let her see. The Friday before Father's Day my youngest son came to the house with his wife. I was surprised to see them but they said they wanted to see how I was doing. I told them that it had been a long day and they said they might be able to help.

They separated and there in back of them was Peter still dressed in his cammies! He had been granted a two-week-leave and wanted to surprise us. I kept crying and telling him to promise me this was not a dream. My next thought was Amanda. I told him we had to go to her school and surprise her, so we both walked over to the school, not even taking time for him to change out of his uniform, with me still holding on tight to him. We went to the office and told the secretary Miss Nancy, who he was. She broke into a grin and those in the office were smiling as well. Miss Nancy went called on the phone to Amanda's classroom and asked that Amanda be sent to the office.

In the meantime we had Peter sit in the chair while we hid him from sight. Amanda came into the office and we parted. She saw her dad and all she could say was "Oh daddy" and just dissolved into tears. All of us were in tears as well. She proudly brought her dad to the classroom to show him off. I will never ever forget the look of joy, happiness and relief on her face when she saw him in that office and no other Father's Day will ever be more memorable or mean as much as that one did.

Laurie Emerson
Biloxi MS

 

Ok, so it's the first year that I have a real-ish job, and I knew EXACTLY what I was gonna get my dad - HICKORY FARMS! (Imagine the little stars around the words, and a lot of angelic music.) I had gotten off from work late, and I knew the shop at the mall would close at 6. At 6 p.m. sharp, my sister and I made it to the front door, only to see the guy, who, I may add, was quite the hottie, rolling down the gate. We begged him to stay open, and told him we knew EXACTLY which box we wanted. Looking quite annoyed (and not quite as hot), he let us snatch up the first box at the display and pay for it.

Fast-forward to Father's Day. I had gift-wrapped it lovingly, and proudly gave it to my dad. He opened it, and saw the contents with a smile. I had never felt so proud, giving him something that I had actually worked for for the first time. He hugged me, and tenderly lifted the cheese out of the box. A puzzled look came across his face. He turned the cheese around, to see the Styrofoam block filling up the container. He then took a sausage out, and tapped it on the table a couple of times. It was made of plastic. In a twist that only I could have done, I had grabbed the display box.

Kimi Little
Hayward, CA

 

Just Look Around

When I think of Father's Day, I think of how this wonderful man taught me. But, as a writer, one particular memory stands out every time I stare at my monitor, willing it to put ideas into my head, followed by beautiful prose. There's nothing to write about. I'm a perfect example of writer's block, stymied and frustrated. A massive headache throbs in my brain. I go to the kitchen and put on the kettle for tea. While I wait for it to boil, I remember something my father told me years ago.

I walked down the hallway to Dad's study. Framed photographs and news clippings covered the walls, testimony to his long career in broadcast journalism. Curious about the world, Dad could sit down at his old black Underwood and pull ideas and words out of the air. He never wondered what to write about. I wanted to be just like him.

I pulled a chair up to Dad's old roll-top desk. Shadows from the elm tree outside danced on the papers strewn over his desk. I hooked my loafers on the chair rung and looked at Dad. "Mrs. Crosley always gives us a subject to write about," I said. "That's not a problem. But today she told us we could write about anything we want. There's nothing to write about. Nothing."

Dad took off his reading glasses and set them down. He scratched his balding head, pushed his chair back and looked at me. "Nothing? Open your eyes." He got up and went to the window. "Look at those leaves out there, the wind gives them a life of their own." He put his arm around me. "You'll find something - just look around."

Through the years, Dad's advice has inspired me to write and has helped me see the world: a double rainbow, dewdrops on a rose or a tiny baby, returning my smile. When I look around I find I can write about a homeless family, struggling to feed their children or my neighbor's son, home from Iraq, missing a leg. Dad's words have made me realize that through my writing, I might make a difference.

The kettle's screeching whistle brings me back to reality. I pour the hot water into my red "I Love Writing" mug and go back to my office. The monitor is still blank, staring back at me. Then I hear Dad's voice, Just look around. I remember the bald eagle by the river, the sound it made as it flew across the water, black wings spread high. My fingers begin to dance along the keyboard and my headache starts to subside.

I haven't bought a Father's Day gift in twelve years. But everyday I look around - that's my gift to him now.

Jodi Henry
Eugene, OR