BY MICHAEL S. JOHNSON
Father’s Day is the product, not surprisingly, of a woman’s effort, a daughter raised by a widower in Seattle a hundred years ago, but it took 60 years for the day commemorating fathers to be celebrated nationally.
I have enjoyed the observance of Father’s Day 32 times. And in most of those years, my children have presented me with cards, hand drawn with color crayons in the early years; gifts, many handmade, and a hearty Sunday brunch.
I have accepted all with gratitude, a few tears, some embarrassment for being the center of attention, and some guilt for accepting love and kudos when I know I wasn’t the best father I could have been or my children deserved.