Happy Pappy Day!

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We lost another giant this week with the transition of actress and activist Ruby Dee. We are saddened by her loss but overjoyed that she has gone on to continue the love story she shared with her lifetime partner, Ossie Davis. She was a great and gracious lady who will be missed.

Happy Father's Day or as we say in my house, Happy Pappy Day!

I know what you're thinking. I went on a tear a month ago about Mother's Day. How could I be so hypocritical as to exclaim Happy Father's Day? The simple answer is that I recognize this day because it makes my father happy.

Every year my father complains about the lack of respect for fathers. He notes that restaurants are packed to the roof on Mother's Day but not on Father's Day. He laments that fathers are so easily discarded in our modern world. In short, he's pissed that fathers seem to be disrespected, dishonored and forgotten. For a daddy's girl like me, I can do nothing less than celebrate a day devoted to the man who's been my rock.

Charles J. Seavers, my dad, was born in Clarksdale, MS. He lived there until the age of 10 when he came to Chicago with his parents during the great migration. Like so many others during that time, he lived on the south side of Chicago, graduated high school, worked all sorts of odd jobs, married and fathered a child. Unlike some, he was forced to raise his daughter alone when his wife died after only eight years of marriage. He was a Cook County Sheriff's police officer but resigned in order so he could guarantee his child would be taken care of.

During my childhood, my father was not only a father to me but to other children who were fatherless in our neighborhood. He taught kids how to ride a bike, he took us to Fred & Jack's for burgers and milkshakes. He was there when kids got into trouble and needed guidance. He gave away young ladies at their weddings. He was the neighborhood dad and I loved his for it.

As a girl, I did everything with my father that girls do with their mothers. He was with me when I got my first bra, my first pair of stockings and heels and my first visit to a gynecologist. He was the only man at my Girl Scout meetings and often the only man at mother-daughter events. He enjoyed the attention and once I got over the embarrassment, I enjoyed having him there.

When I began dating, he put the fear of God into a few young men. He was a commanding presence and made it quite clear he expected me to return home as untouched as when I left. He met every young man I dated at the door and grilled them mercilessly. He walked me to the door of every teenage party I attended to he could be sure the parents were there. Sometimes he stayed talking to the parents until the party was over and I left the parties with my head down and my dad in tow.

He helped me raise my son in every way possible. He's been a great role model for my child and for other young men after all these years. We still run into some of his probationers who often tell him how he helped them turn their lives around when he was their probation officer. He has made a real contribution to me, our family and the lives of others.

He's given me the most grief in my life but has also been my biggest fan. Even now, he tells people I can walk on water. He has always wanted the best for me and continues to support the dreams of my son, my husband and me.

At the age of 84, he shows no sign of slowing down. He had a stroke this year and he moves a little slower. He walks with a cane and is screaming mad that he can't drive. He has places to go and people to see. Sometimes I want to kill him and other times I want to hug the life out of him but always, always I love him.

I am blessed to still have him in my life. So if it means having him over for dinner like we did today, sending him a card as we did this week and making him feel special was the price I had to pay for all that he has given me, so be it. It was well worth it.

Happy Pappy Day, Charles Seavers! I love you.