What Makes One A Father?

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L ~ R: Circa 1923 ~ My father, Alfred Howard Copp, his brother Michael, and Don. Later on a sister, Dorothy, and a brother, Louis, came into this world. 

What makes one a father? Literally speaking, his seed does the job nicely. Not everyone grows up in a loving home, and I most certainly didn’t. My father countered the evils brought on by my mother ~ yes, this I can say as she is no longer on this beautiful blue sphere of life; hence no slander. 

My father was a special man who was gifted with skills in abundance. At the end of his sixth grade school year, he was sent into the world of work, and he had to pay his own room and board with his parents. This was in the middle of the 1920s and life was hard, very hard. 

I grew up in a household of nine ~ two parents, two boys, and five girls, and I was number three in birth order. Despite my dad’s lack of formal education, he excelled in life, partly due to a photographic memory and the rest was sheer determination. His memory never failed even in later years. He worked hard to provide for his family, 40 hour work weeks at night, doing landscape work for us and others weekly, and drove a van part time for a laundry service. My dad also lavished time for us kids, and I’m just not sure when he fit in time to sleep. He would give our butts a swat, if needed, and he was the ultimate father. I know of no one else who could do, and manage, what mine did. I am thankful to have been his daughter.

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