Maybe the best tribute I can give my husband and the "Daddy" to our children is to share an excerpt from an article I wrote for a newsletter for Law Enforcement Families about how important Daddies are to their children. I hope you enjoy it.
Daddy’s Overalls
My husband was a New Mexico State Policeman for twenty years. Our children never knew their Dad as anything other than a policeman. They were proud of him and his job and what he stood for. We have the pictures in the family photo albums of the boys each standing proudly in a pair of their daddy’s boots and wearing one of his hats. They were flexing their muscles and showing that they were big and strong like their dad. Looking at the picture, they must have been all of 3 and 4 years old. There was nothing or no one they looked up to with more pride than their own “peace man” and his car with its loud sirens and bright flashing lights. They were the envy of the neighborhood and would ask daddy to turn on the lights and sirens for their friends (BIG HIT) on his days off.
But, ultimately, they knew that when their dad put on that uniform and got in his car with the lights and the sirens, that he was going to “work”. Because his work hours were not Monday through Friday 8-5, we were never quite sure when he would be home from work, especially during the early years. If Dad was working General Hours, or Special Assignments, we had no idea when he would be home, or if he would have dinner with us. Many times his plate sat empty at the head of the table, and his food grew cold in the fridge.
On occasion we would watch the news on TV and see him performing his duties at a wreck, standing guard outside the prison during a prison riot/escape, manning a checkpoint for an escape or DWI campaign or some other news worthy item. Sometimes it was fun, because he was the officer they used to make the Public Service Commercials for DWI or Seat Belt awareness commercials. The kids would come running to let me know daddy was on TV again.
But, there was another side to “Dad”. Our families have always been people of the land. For generations, the “work” uniform of the men during the week was the “Overall”. Fred loved wearing overalls. Prior to being a Law Enforcement Officer, he would wear them whenever he would work out at his father’s farm or around the house. When he joined the law enforcement community, he didn’t leave the overalls back at the farm. They came with him. He found that when he was off-duty, that he enjoyed the comfort and “non-binding” of the overalls for puttering around the house.
Over time, the kids began to associate the fact that Dad was “home” and “off-duty” with the fact that he had his overalls on. This sounds simplistic on the surface, but since they have all grown and moved out into their own adult worlds and families, I am discovering just how important those overalls were to them and to us as a family.
The more I have sat and reflected on them, the more I have come to see just how the implication and symbolism of those worn, dusty and dirty work clothes of our family’s heritage have served as the glue and cement to our survival as a family.
Proof of the importance of the overalls manifested itself in a couple of very unique ways in the last few years since our children have grown. First, when our daughter got married four years ago, she made it very LOUD AND CLEAR that she wanted her Dad to wear his overalls to her wedding. We came to a compromise—I bought a new pair of overalls and dyed them as dark a black as I could get them. He proudly wore those overalls with a Tuxedo shirt, black bow-tie and a Black long-tailed Tuxedo Jacket. Our daughter walked down the aisle on her father’s arm, her beaming face looking up at him. She was her Daddy’s little girl, one last time, and he looked resplendent in his high-fashioned Overall Tuxedo.
This last year, our second son presented us with a grandchild. Earlier, during his wife’s pregnancy, I told John that I planned on making either an Overall Sam Quilt (if a boy) or a Sun-bonnet Sue Quilt if it was a girl. I also made the comment that if I made the Sam quilt, I would use an old pair of dad’s overalls to make the quilt. His response was that little girls liked overalls, too. After further discussion, I got the message LOUD AND CLEAR--- it didn’t matter if it was a girl or boy--- he wanted a quilt for the baby made from a pair of his dad’s overalls. It was a boy, and yes, he got his Overall Sam quilt.
Happy Father's Day to Daddy's, one and all. You never know what it is that is the "glue" in your family and what becomes the identifier for your children that you are home for them.
Muse
A really good book is much like an artichoke. As you peel back each page of the of the book, you get closer and closer to the succulent heart of the story.
