Fredericksburg Parent

6 Fredericksburg Parent and Family • June 2023 Entrepreneur of the Year PROUD FOUNDING MEMBER ADVERTISING PHONE 540-429-3572 EMAIL leighanne@fredericksburgparent.net CALENDAR & SOCIAL MEDIA EMAIL webmaster@fredericksburgparent.net EDITORIAL PHONE 540-429-3572 EMAIL fredparenteditor@gmail.com SNAIL MAIL P.O. Box 7884, F'burg, VA 22404 www.fredericksburgparent.net LIKE facebook.com/FredericksburgParent SIGN UP www.FredParent.net PIN www.pinterest.com/fredparent FOLLOW @fredparentmagazine parent fredericksburg & family WRITTEN BY CHRIS JONES editor's note editor's note Photo by Corey Miller Photography What I Learned What I Learned By Observing By Observing My Father My Father PUBLISHER Leigh Anne Van Doren leighanne@fredericksburgparent.net Tabitha & Jamie Nelle's mom EDITOR & WEBMASTER Chris Jones chris@fredericksburgparent.net Quincy, Hayden & Olive's dad MEDIA & ADVERTISING DIRECTOR megan@fredericksburgparent.net Megan Walsh: Mia, Noelle & Adelaide's mom DESIGN & PRODUCTION Cheryl Carter: Alex, Kate & Jackie's mom CALENDAR & COOL THINGS TO DO ELETTER caroline@fredericksburgparent.net Caroline Murray: Nate and Brendan's mom EDUCATION & INFANT ELETTERS Debra Caffrey: Aidan's mom SPECIAL EVENTS COORDINATOR jessica@fredericksburgparent.net Jessica Trask: Cye, Asher and Ragan's mom SOCIAL MEDIA DIRECTOR Mira Dover MARKETING & EVENT INTERN Ragan Trask For as long as I can remember, I've always enjoyed Father's Day. I would burst from my bed and dash down the hall into the dining room where my grandfather would be reading The Washington Post and drinking coffee from his Redskins mug. In the background, my grandmother's radio piped out old gospel choir music and the smell of fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, bacon and biscuits clothed the air like a blanket. My grandfather—to whom I'll refer to as dad now forward—had a way about it that hasn't changed in the 40-plus years that I've known him. His slender figure sits per- fectly straight at the head of the table. He crosses his legs with his calf resting on his knee. And as far as I can remember, he is a jeans and undershirt type of guy, with the undershirt tucked into his pants exposing his thick, brown belt; a set of keys dangling from a leather strap looped around his belt. I remember the scent of my father's cologne—Stetson or English Leather. On Father's Day, he would hoist me on to this bony lap and I would give him the card and the gift that I got him. I could see the joy in his face, and he would thank me, and I'd jet off on my way. I have never seen my father cry, but that doesn't mean that it hasn't happened. He has a gentle strength about him. But I have seen him tired. I've seen him fall asleep on the couch, in his recliner, at the picnic table, in a lawn chair, in the front seat of his white Cadillac and in his bed. But he was never too tired for me. When I was in the fourth grade, he built Jamestown with me from clay and Popsicle sticks. He built a rocket with me from paper towel tubes, duct tape and the caps from his after- shave bottles. He took me baseball practice and watched my games. All of this he did because he wanted to do it. It was who he was. My father was a provider. He expressed his love through the time he gave. Throughout my life, when I have faced challenges and obstacles—like failing a class in my final quarter at art school that caused me to graduate three months late, going through a divorce, or losing everything I owned in an apartment fire—and my dad talking was always that reassuring voice I could count on to snap me back into real- ity and into focus. When I had doubts about myself or overcoming situations I found myself in, he'd utter his famous quip, "I can't is an excuse for the weak and a chal- lenge for the brave." I learned from my dad that fatherhood and life aren't easy, but both are equally rewarding. I have to keep showing up for those I love, but most importantly, continue showing up for myself. And most of all, live a life my kids can be proud to associate with. That's what he did for me. Of him these Clarence Budington Kelland words hold true: "My father didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it." Thanks, dad. The publishers reserve the right to reject any advertisement, editorial or listing that does not meet the publication's stan- dards. No part of this magazine may be reproduced with out permission. Listing and advertising rates are available upon request. Every effort has been made to assure the accuracy of the information contained herein, however, the publisher cannot guarantee such accuracy. Listings and adver- tisements are subject to typographical errors, ommissions and/or change without notice. For terms and conditions please visit our website at www.fredericksburgparent.net © Copyright 2023 Nurture, Inc. All rights reserved.

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