I’ve realized sometime ago my books tend to have great fathers in them.
That is, of course, because I had/have a great father. Dad was the sort of dad any kid would want. For one he knew everything, from the nesting habits of local birds to how to translate the Latin inscriptions we came across on our rambles through the nearby woods. And he has this thing where cats, dogs, even wild animals, come to him. As they should, because he’s a good man. (Though not a Good Man.)
My concepts of honor and duty come from dad, and though sometimes they’re onerous enough, they serve their purpose of making me part of something more important than myself: of making me part of civilization and family and humanity. Without dad, left to my own devices, I’d probably long ago have been kicked out of the human race for shoving.
He taught me stuff like “don’t hurt those weaker than you” and “protect the helpless” and ALWAYS stick up for the truth.
And then I was lucky enough to marry a man who became a great dad. It’s hard to be sure when you get married, and you’re both striplings (really, 22? WHO THE HECK LET KIDS MARRY????) but Dan is a great dad. He talks to the boys when I can’t (as in “you talk to them or I’ll just start screaming” and he solves math problems with the youngest and composes math with the older and along the way teaches them those things you never learn directly: hard work and dedication, and care of others.
So, right now? I’m going to wander off and make my husband’s father’s day happy. Ya’ll carry on with your planned chaos.
There will be promo post later.