A Standing Ovation

Having just sobbed my way through Ann Coulter's new column, I'm feeling sentimental. Ann's mother just died, and her column is an incredibly moving tribute to her "number one fan." Despite my relatively short list of accomplishments, I, too, have a number one fan, but, unlike Ann Coulter, I don't want to write about him only when it's too late for him to read it. So, Dad, this one's for you.

I honestly cannot remember a time when you weren't there for me. Nor a time when you didn't understand even my most foolish mistakes, brushing them aside and seeing the best in me even in failure. You have always been my idol, my rock, my inspiration...the one I could never quite live up to.

I doubt that I actually remember, but after all the years of looking at baby pictures it seems like I do, sitting on your foot as you sat with your legs crossed, both of us reading a book. Best seat in the house!

I remember all the things you taught me as a child - how to ride a bike, climb a rope ladder, properly handle a rifle, tie flies. I remember you working, always working, remodeling houses, building a potty chair, chopping wood, caring for a garden. I've never known anyone in my entire life with your work ethic, and if there's one shortcoming in myself that has troubled me most, it's my lack of drive and sheer determination. I've always wished I had your self discipline and willpower.

I remember the smell of Jade East and Golden Something tobacco...was it Golden Woods? The name's slipped my mind, but not the sweet aroma of your pipe. I remember when you quit smoking, cold turkey, because you went in to a store to buy yourself a pack of cigarettes for the first time in years and simply refused to pay the price. I still don't know how you did that.

I cherish the memories of tramping through the woods with you, unfairly tricking squirrels into becoming our victims, and how you always let me be the one who got the shot. I remember the trip to the Rio Grande, and the mile hike that was so easy going down, but so nearly impossible coming back up. I remember throwing snowballs at the Red Lion Inn in Vail and scaling an ice covered hill to capture a wasps' nest for a quarter. I remember you saving the Dinty Moore Beef Stew for the night I was having dinner with you on that camping trip. Even in the sad times, you always put me first.

So many things I remember, and so many memories to cherish. More than anything else, I remember how loved you always made me feel. You were always so patient, so willing to teach. I know that you could have gotten the jobs done more quickly if I had just left you alone, but you always included me in your projects and explained what you were doing, how, and why. You, more than anyone else I have ever known, made me feel special and important - like you really couldn't get the job done without my help, or, at the very least, wouldn't enjoy it nearly as much. You will never know how much that meant to me - the one who was always a bit of an outsider and never quite felt like I belonged anywhere else. I always belonged with you.

You are my hero, Dad, and there simply are no words to express the depth of my love and gratitude. You instilled in me a deep and passionate love of country and freedom and a respect for the past and those who sacrificed all for our present. You taught me right and wrong, as much through deeds as words, and always inspired me to be more and better. Anthing good that I am, I am because of you.

Many have made more of an impact on the world, but none has meant more to me. You gave me the greatest gift any person could ever give - your unwavering love and support. That gift has made me the richest woman in the world. Thank you, Dad. I love you.