Father’s Day ‘Dad-Isms’ Are Tender, Inspiring And, Well, Familiar

ACROSS AMERICA — The little red wagon outside Wendy Lee’s home in Browns Mills, New Jersey, holds more than decorations.

It’s overflowing with memories.

“As a kid, my dad would, no matter what, take my brother and I out in the red wagon, pulling us on the Point Pleasant boardwalk,” she said in response to a survey asking Patch readers to share “dad-isms” and other memories for Father’s Day.

“It was a part of my childhood and my dad kept it all these years,” Wendy Lee said, recalling she had found the treasure in the attic during a move.

Their close bond strengthened in adulthood, and as he got older, Wendy Lee’s father talked more about his service in Vietnam. He was disabled from a war injury, his daughter said, and knew better than many “the battles others faced.”

“He always said, ‘Make sure to respect and thank veterans for their service,’ ” she said.

The lessons in respect started early.

“He also told me when I first started elementary school. ‘Respect the children, but make sure to respect the special needs, disabled and kids that are different than you. They need your kindness,’” Wendy Lee said.

“I am 44 and still apply that,” she continued. “I have defended many special needs kids in high school that were bullied. As an adult, because of how I was raised, I am kind to special needs people, elders and others.”

Pancreatic cancer shortened her dad’s life. “He is missed,” she said.

Dad ‘Ignited A Curiosity Within Me’

Robert’s dad was a storyteller who wove “a remarkable sense of humor” into his real-life adventures.

Robert’s dad grew up in Alabama but relocated to New York City after returning home from the Korean War. His son, who lives in Briarwood, New York, has fond childhood memories of engaging in word games and puzzle-solving activities as a young child and deep discussions as he grew older.

“We often had conversations about his experiences in Korea and his travels to Japan,” Robert said. “These discussions ignited a curiosity within me about the wider world. His stories made me yearn to learn more about different cultures and places. His influence truly broadened my horizons.”

Thomas’ favorite dad-ism was the paradoxical “as long as I owe you, you’ll never go broke.”

Tom’s dad was a storyteller, too. The dad-ism that sticks most in his memory is, “Daniel Boone was an alcoholic.”

The Palos Heights, Illinois, man said his dad was “very intelligent, but if he didn't know something, he’d make something up, for example, Daniel Boone.” The historical record disputes that the frontiersman abused alcohol.

‘Get Over Yourself’

Linda, who lives in Bethesda, Maryland, said her favorite dad-ism was “get over yourself.”

“He didn’t always say it exactly this way, but my brother and I grew up knowing that we weren't superior or inferior to any other person and that our best course in life would be to treat everyone fairly and equitably, whether they had far less than us or far more, which was often the case,” Linda said.

“We weren't rich by Jeff Bezos standards or even close to that, but were privileged in some other important ways. Dad always told us we didn't have to apologize for that, but neither should we act like we were better than anyone else.”

Linda said she and her brother, who lives in Wyoming, had to “revoke” their father’s driver’s license after their mother died. His eyesight had deteriorated and without their mom to drive or help navigate, it wasn’t safe for him to drive.

She now makes the Maryland-to-Wyoming road trip with her dad every year.

“I have lots of fond memories of my dad, but those long discussions in the car help me figure out what I'm going to do about a certain situation,” Linda said. “He doesn’t tell me what to do, and if he does lead me there, he expertly camouflages it.”

Linda’s dad is in his late 70s now.

“I know we don’t have that many trips left,” she said. “We’ll be heading west in July and I can’t wait.”

Margaret, who lives in McLean, Virginia, said her father was gone from home often while she was growing up as he built his law practice.

“His big regret was that he spent too much time away from his family,” she said. “He and Mom were separated for many years but reconciled about five years before he died. He taught me a lot about working smart so I have time for my family.”

In weekly phone calls, “he always pressed me about what I was doing outside of my demanding job for myself and my family,” Margaret said. “I always knew I needed a real, meaningful answer because conversations with him were like depositions — in a good way but he probed deeper and deeper, resulting in some fascinating discussions.”

‘Turn Off The Light’

Although all dads are unique, some dad-isms submitted by readers are clichés offered to impart valuable, lasting lessons.

“Turn off the light when you leave the room!” is something Marj heard frequently as a child.

The Eastham, Massachusetts, woman’s favorite memories with her father aren’t of the value of conserving electricity but finding adventure. “He taught me how to body surf,” Marj said.

This dad-ism from Elana in Manassas, Virginia, is familiar, too: “Do as I say, not as I do.”

Her dad was a builder. In 1975, he met and began working with a carpet layer who ended up becoming Elana’s father-in-law.

“They ended up becoming good friends,” she said. “Around that time, my dad and mom invited them over to our house. At that time, I was 13.”

Janet in Tampa, Florida, said she grew up hearing “there’s no such word as can’t.”

“He’s been gone for a long time but was always providing for his family,” Janet said.

Giovannina, who lives on Long Island, was raised by a hard-working man, too.

“He was born with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis and couldn’t walk until he was 5,” Giovannina said, noting her dad was on the Arthritis Foundation Telethon.

“He worked two full-time jobs and, on weekends, three part-time jobs, for years, only sleeping three to four hours a night for many years,” Giovannina said.

A favorite dad-ism for Giovannina is, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”

“Don’t tell people what you’re going to do. Show them with your actions,” Stephanie in Brooklyn, New York, said, parroting her dad.

She cherishes the memories of making lemon ice cream on the beach with her dad.

Kris in Hillsborough, New Jersey, learned to fish at the knee of her father.

She learned other things, too.

“If you dance to the music, you have to pay the piper,” her dad often said.