My dad and I were never close. He is not an outwardly emotional person and, probably because I grew up with him as my role model, neither am I. In my house there was no abuse, he didn't cheat on my mother, he always worked hard to provide for his family - all the things a good father is supposed to do. It's just that he left the emotional side of things to my mother. That's just who he is and as I get older I can see that in myself, too.

I recognize now that my dad's way of showing his love involved his actions, not his words. He'd go out of his way to help me, no matter how it might inconvenience him. One particular incident stands out in my mind that shows just how far he'd go to try and make me happy.

 My family was visiting Grandma and Grandpa (Dad's parents) over summer vacation when I was about 8 years old. They still lived on the farm in Nebraska where Dad grew up. One of the best things about visiting the farm, in my young mind, was getting to shoot guns.

 Dad had two guns - an ancient BB gun that he let me use and the "big gun". The "big gun" was really just a .22 rifle which is actually a very small, low-powered gun for those of you that don't know. To an 8 year old city kid, though, it seemed like a cannon. One hot afternoon Dad and I were walking around the farm shooting at cans and other stuff like that. Dad spotted a crow sitting atop a dead tree about 50 yards away. He pointed it out to me and asked if I could hit it with the BB gun. I gave it a few shots but there was no chance of hitting it, as I'm sure my dad knew. Then I asked him to try. Dad had no trouble nailing the crow on his first shot with the .22.

In my mind's eye I can still see the crow falling out of the tree and spiralling down to the ground. I asked Dad what would happen to the body and he said that the cats would probably find it and eat it. For some reason I didn't like that idea - I wanted to see the dead bird. After only a few moments of my badgering him, Dad agreed to go get the bird.

The problem was, the tree was in the middle of an overgrown field. There were thorn bushes, stinging nettles, and who knows what else growing there. Dad didn't care - his son had asked him to do something and he was going to try his best to get it done. Off he went through the vegetation. He was gone probably about 20 minutes. When he came back he didn't have the bird - it was just too difficult to find. Being the selfish 8 year old that I was, I didn't appreciate his efforts. I was just saddened that I didn't get to see the dead bird.

My dad and I have had our differences and that's normal for a father and son. But this Father's Day I'm going to keep one picture in my mind that illustrates my dad's love for me. My dad - sweating in the Nebraska heat, cuts and scratches all over his arms and legs, burrs stuck to his socks, apologizing to me that he just wasn't able to find a dead crow in the dense undergrowth.

No need to apologize, Dad. I love you, too. Happy Father's Day.