I think my father is a kind man, he love help people, and always forget todo something for himself. He has a good sence of humor, yes, I like that. Thatalways make us happy.
I think he is a friend of mine. Because he always talk with me. I oftenfeel I am not his daughter but his friend.
I think that my father is a good father and also a good worker. He worksvery hard. So he can't play with me or my mum for long time. He think work willmake him happy because work has many funny. So he always teaches me: don't thinkwork is a hard thing.
My father has many hobby. For example, he like reading, and he also likeplay computer game. He use his hobby to realx. He can feel very happy if hework, and also play.
He is a good man, isn't he?
Dear Dad，
Today I was at the shopping mall and I spent a lot of time reading theFather’s Day cards. They all had a special message that in some way or anotherreflected how I feel about you. Yet as I selected and read, and selected andread again, it occurred to me that not a single card said what I really want tosay to you.
You’ll soon be 84 years old, Dad, and you and I will have had 55 Father’sDays together. I haven’t always been with you on Father’s Day nor have I beenwith you for all of your birthdays. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to be withyou. I’ve always been with you in my heart but sometimes life gets in theway.
You know, Dad, there was a time when we were not only separated by thegeneration gap but completely polarized by it. You stood on one side of theGreat Divide and I on the other, father and daughter split apart by age andexperience, opinions, hairstyles, cosmetics, clothing, curfews, music, andboys.
The Father-Daughter Duel of ’54 shifted into high gear when you taught meto drive the old Dodge and I decided I would drive the ‘54 Chevy whether youliked it or not. The police officer who escorted me home after you reported theChevy stolen late one evening was too young to understand father-daughterpolitics and too old to have much tolerance for a snotty 16 year old. You wereso decent about it, Dad, and I think that was probably what made it the worstnight of my life.
Our relationship improved immensely when I married a man you liked, andthings really turned around when we begin making babies right and left. Wedidn’t have a television set, you know, and we had to entertain ourselvessomehow. I didn’t know what to expect of you and Mom as grandparents but Ididn’t have to wait long to find out. Those babies adored you then just as theyadore you now. When I see you with all your grandchildren, I know you’ve giventhem the finest gift a grandparent can give. You’ve given them yourself.
Somewhere along the line, the generation gap evaporated. Age separates usnow and little else. We agree on most everything, perhaps because we’ve learnedthere isn’t much worth disagreeing about. However, I would like to mention thatfly fishing isn’t all you’ve cracked it up to be, Dad. You can say what you wantabout wrist action and stance and blah, blah, blah...
I’ve been happily drifting for a lot of years, Dad, and I didn’t see yougetting older.
I suppose I saw us and our relationship as aging together, rather like afine wine. Numbers never seemed important. But the oddest thing happened lastweek. I was at a stop sign and I watched as you turned the corner in your car.It didn’t immediately occur to me that it was you because the man driving lookedso elderly and fragile behind the wheel of that huge car. It was rather like aslap in the face delivered from out of nowhere. Perhaps I saw your age for thefirst time that day. Or maybe I saw my own.
Fifty years ago this spring we planted kohlrabi together in a garden inCharles City, Iowa.
I didn’t know then that I would remember that day for the rest of my life.This week, we’ll plant kohlrabi together again, perhaps for the last time but Ihope not. I don’t understand why planting kohlrabi with you is so important tome but it is. And the funny thing about it is, well, I don’t know quite how totell you this, Dad...I don’t even like kohlrabi...but I like planting it withyou.
I guess what I’m trying to say, Dad, is what every son and daughter wantsto say to their Dad today. Honoring a Father on Father’s Day is about more thana Dad who brings home a paycheck, shares a dinner table, and attends schoolfunctions, graduations, and weddings. It isn’t even so much about kohlrabi, ’54Chevrolets, and fly-fishing. It’s more about unconditionally loving children whoare snotty and stubborn, who know everything and won’t listen to anyone. It’sabout respect and sharing and acceptance and tolerance and giving and taking.It’s about loving someone more than words can say，and it’s wishing that it neverhad to end.
I love you, Dad.
Yesterday was Father's Day. I had planned to give my father a present. ButI didn't remember it until in the morning.It was too late to post a card to him.So I decided to buy something. When I was in the department store. I found itwas not easy for me to choose something right for him.
Suddenly I got an idea. I ran home and opened my computer. I made abeautiful card and mailed him through the Internet. then I began to make supper.When father came home, he was very glad to find a big meal on the table. then Iasked him to check his e-mail. He was amazed to find a beautiful card in hise-mail-box.
What a wonderful surprise!