My father was the very definition of a hands on Dad. And like George Bailey in a It's a Wonderful life, he touched so many lives.
My father was always there for us. He would skip out of work to attend our baseball, basketball, soccer, softball, field hockey, and football games in junior high and high school.
I honestly cannot remember him ever missing a game that did not conflict with one of my siblings' games or events.
He was the first person I ever played catch with, tossed a football with, shot basketballs with in our driveway, and hit golf balls into the woods behind our house at 3 Brentwood Ave in Salem, NH.
He also coached my and my brother Chris's baseball teams from pee wee league through senior league and he even coached our hockey team one year.
My father was also involved in cub scouts and would participate as a very bad singer in the annual musical show. What made it worse was that he was also the loudest singer in the chorus.
I have so many fond memories of my father. He was a great cook who made the best meatballs and chicken wings in the neighborhood among other fancier items like stuffed peppers and American chop suey that I was less a fan of as a picky eater.
One of my favorites was his banana, butter, and sugar sandwiches, which he would make when he would take us into the woods to hike and hunt for mushrooms.
I will never forget all the times he took us lake fishing, deep sea fishing, digging for clams on the sand bars in Hampton, tobogganing on the hills at Merrimack golf course, camping at Eastern Slopes, and early morning trips to Rockingham Park to watch the horses work out in the morning.
Every Sunday, he took us to church, and every morning of my high school years, he drove me around the neighborhood so I could deliver the newspaper. Every now and then, he would give me a break and let me sleep in while he delivered the papers himself. That paper route was eventually passed on to my brother and then my sister.
When I moved back to the area from California, he flew out to drive with me on the trip back, which was an adventure in itself. I remember one time, he came to my house, where I was living in Salem at the time, just to tell me that he had noticed that my tires needed air. He drove me to school one day after I missed the bus, stopping along the way for a honey-dipped donut and some father-son time. When he was timing me in the mile run for my Naval Academy application, he ran with me on the final lap to motivate me to run faster.
It was these kinds of little things that confirmed to me, Chris, and Maureen that we were the most important people in his life.
I could talk for hours about all the things my father did for me and all the great times that I had with him growing up and throughout my adult years, but I will wrap it up here.
My father was just a wonderful role model as a dad and I can only hope that I was half the father to my son Patrick during his formative years as my father was to me.