Father's Day

It’s Father’s Day, what’s on your mind? Facebook asks.

My children have an exceptional father who would and does do anything and everything for them.

They are blessed beyond belief.  Do they know?

Golden Wedding Anniversary 2006.
I don't understand why Brigitte doesn't like me using a 9-year-old picture.
Doesn't she always want to be 10-years-old?
Personally, I liked it.

August 2013

 These pictures are two years old - the last time we got together.
I have to post all three to catch everyone.
They could use some photoshop work.
(Or a change of characters.)

My own father deserted us when I was 10-½ years old.

Before that he was a very good father, who sacrificed his own comfort and well-being for us.

Oh, he didn’t desert on purpose;

he was killed accidentally while tending his sheep.

Yet in my young mind,

he was in heaven with green pastures and roses

while we were down here in the mud,

struggling to make ends meet.

At least my mother was.

Never underestimate her.

Her courage pulled us up by the bootstraps;

we did not feel sorry for ourselves;

We did not starve, we did not want;

we survived and thrived.

And that’s what’s on my mind this Father’s Day.

John Lynn Esplin

I was a

Tender of sheep

Trainer of horses

Wooer of Amy Heaton

Father of eight children

Survivor of the Great Depression

Builder of a sheep operation

Follower of public events

Lover of good livestock

Care-taker of land

And passed on

At age 43

By DeLoy H. Esplin

My sister, Shirley, barely 18 years old, wrote this poem when Daddy died. It seemed to give Mama a lot of comfort, as she wanted to read it to everyone who came.

Dear Daddy,

There is one in a million, and Daddy that’s you.

Some live for themselves, but you are one of the few

who lived not just for the love of the life you live.

Daddy, you loved and gained from the joy that you give.

For success in marriage between you and our mother,

you faced problems, pure joy, one thing and another.

Jointly, you raised a fine brood who’ll anytime say,

“There’s no better Dad, with his quiet, humble way.”

You helped with the housework and played games with us too.

The ‘counsel’ you gave was by watching what you’d do.

‘Quiet pride’ we understood, when you were around

Comfort and strength in your strong build, courage we found.

You lived with your work, it kept you a lot away.

While your loved ones at home for your safety would pray.

What joy, hearing the pickup come up to the gate

“Daddy!  Daddy!” To hug you, we could hardly wait.

“Where is Mama?” you would ask, with love in your eyes,

the building stone for successful family ties.

There was no person of whom you ever talked ill.

The friends that you have made are the friends with you still.

You loved your work, but you got sick.  As we all know,

herding sheep is very hard in rain and in snow.

You accomplished far more than it may have seemed

Your goodness on earth is greater than you have dreamed.

You could not live unless you lived giving your best.

You loved your family but you needed this rest.

The way you went, we do not fully understand

It certainly was not the way we had planned.

Daddy, maybe it was best for you to leave us now.

When there’s a will, there’s a way.  It’ll work somehow.

In heav’n you’ll be with us to help.  We needn’t fear,

Though your leaving is hard; without us shedding a tear.

You needn’t worry for us.  With courage we stand.

God knew best and we’re happy you died on your own land.

A prayer, God, we’ll live as Daddy would want us to.

Even though life will be hard, we’ll see it through.

Our life and home have been happy; they still shall be.

We’ll take good care of Mama.  All of us.  Just see.

With God’s guiding Spirit, and prayer, we’ll feel you’re near.

YOU’RE A WONDERFUL DADDY, WE’LL ALWAYS HOLD DEAR!

                            Affectionately, Shirley (1947)*

                              * With minor editing by Shirley, Jeanette, & DeLoy 2001
He had pneumonia but felt he had to get back out with his sheep, so he was in a weakened condition.

My brother Lynn’s granddaughter, Amy, wrote on a card to him on his birthday a few years ago:

“Happy Birthday Grandpa. Jamison wrote this poem about your father after I read part of your autobiography to him. We admire you and your story so much.  Love Amy & Jamison”.

 

         The Shepherd

            By: Jamison Norlander

And morning in the mountains

And the shepherd to the sheep,

While the mist is on the meadow

And the children lie asleep.

The flocks are thus divided,

And tho’ one retains him more,

He must hurry to the other

As the father did before.

Behind him is the shelter

Where the son abided late

To hear tell of the horizon,

Or the curvedness of fate.

Before him is the meadow

And the curving climb beyond.

Beyond that awaits the nothing

Or the everything of dawn.

He pauses at a vision

Of a face upturned, and kissed;

And the other flock calls faintly;

And he walks into the mist.