My childhood memories almost always involve the game of golf that my Dad taught me at a very young age. I can still hear Dad’s spikes crunching on the cart path past the first tee at the Albert Lea Golf Club. The first hole was short par 4 that was more than a starting hole, more like a measuring stick for my childhood.

What age were you when you could carry it over the pond at the bottom of the hill? Hit it so it landed in view? Knock it in the front bunker? While some had their height measured by marking the door jamb to their bedroom, I had the pine trees up the right side to coincide with all the lessons my dad taught me throughout the years. The “pleases and thank yous” somewhere down by the pond and the tough stuff, like being a father myself, up past the traps.

I bet as he looks back on it he has a memory for every problem I caused him and if my own experience as a dad has taught me anything, a feeling that he wouldn’t trade them for the world. As Father’s Day approaches this year I find myself wondering if another golf shirt would do, if a sleeve of balls could possibly say thank you for giving me all the chances that I have enjoyed.

With repayment impossible, I’m left to submit my humble thank you to my dad this way. I won’t brag about Pop but instead wish all you families the kind of happiness I have been blessed with. Whether your memories are occupied by favorite fishing holes, secret duck blinds or old No. 1 at the club, may you enjoy the same certainty that the Old Man will always be there for you and that the answer to the question “who loves you?” is Dad does. As for me and my family, the answer to that question shall always be: Large does.

Happy Father’s Day.

 

Steve Petersen

Northfield