Columnist Susan Snyder: Cherishing the wonders of Dad

Sunday, June 18, 2000 | 11:36 a.m.

The first bike.

First baseball glove.

First bat.

The day he traded the whiffle ball for a hard ball.

Playing poker, shooting pool and shooting an arrow.

Camping trips. Hikes.

He called fishing excursions "drowning shrimp" because plenty of them died on the hook, and we rarely snagged any fish to bring home.

He hung a rope swing in the apple tree because every kid should have one -- even if she has a swing set, climbing bars and seesaw in the back yard.

Picking cherries.

Picking apples.

Cleaning out the garage.

Listening to the Detroit Tigers on AM radio.

The smell of his cigar.

The sound of his guitar.

His knock-knock jokes -- really, really awful ones.

His pipe.

Flowers he always sent on Valentine's Day. The silver heart locket that came with them one year.

Walking around the neighborhood after dinner. The cane he took along as a walking stick.

Wearing hiking boots instead of tennis shoes because the boots were just like his.

He built a hutch for the rabbit he said we couldn't have.

He built a pen for the ducks he said we couldn't have.

He dug a grave for Kitty under the forsythia bush after she was hit by a car.

He encouraged the swimming lessons even though he didn't like the water.

He stopped the golfing lessons when it seemed we weren't having fun.

He was the best at stringing the Christmas lights.

His "secret" fudge recipe never came out the same way twice, but somehow tasted best the times we had to spread it on soda crackers.

He always wore the neckties given to him -- even the bright red one with blue donkeys all over it. He never wore blue jeans.

Visiting his office on Saturday mornings.

His desk had colored pencils, paper clips, pipe cleaners and a little monster-looking thing that pulled out staples.

He never let us win a game, and it was more fun when we won anyway.

He never lied.

He always fell asleep during football games, but somehow knew when someone was trying to change the channel.

He still wanted to ride bicycles Sunday mornings, even after we both were grown-ups.

Feed your animals before yourself.

Don't put birds in cages.

Don't treat people as inferiors, especially if you're in charge.

Trust your gut.

Measure people by their character, not their wallets.

And when all else fails, "Do as I say and not as I do."

The Tooth Fairy.

The Easter Bunny.

Santa Claus.

The way he looked the day I graduated from college.

The way he looked the last time I saw him.

The grief is forgotten.

The happiness is remembered.

A father's daily gifts.

He gave for keeps.

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