Fathers' Day

Like many other people, I'm thinking about fathers today.

This is one of my favorite pictures of my Dad. (Clearly, it's not one of my favorites of ME, but whatever.)

I don't remember where this photo was taken exactly, but it was from some family camping trip. (This explains the hat?) A great number of my best memories from being a kid were from camping trips. Mom and Dad were just different on vacation. I couldn't say what was different, exactly, but it was wonderful. First of all, we were all together. That was pretty special in itself. Dad always worked a lot, so those ten days every summer that we went away were magical. But it was more than that. We always just had fun together. Hiking in the woods, getting quizzed on different types of trees and plants, finding mushrooms, fishing, sitting around the campfire, singing silly songs...I think that even as little kids we recognized that these trips were such a special time.

I could write a book about the lessons I learned from my Dad. The one that I always come back to is what he taught me maybe without even meaning to. I have ALWAYS known that my Dad loved me, believed in me, and trusted that I would accomplish anything I set my mind to. He taught me to believe in me.


Then this guy...MY Grampa Ken. He is a bit of a legend in our family, but it's completely justified. I don't know that there was anyone who met him and didn't like him. He was just a nice guy. And those of us who were lucky enough to be his grandkids...well, that was something. When I think back to my favorite memories of my grampa, I realize that they are mostly silly. He let us have ice cream sundaes for breakfast (as long as we didn't tell gramma). He liked to catch and pet caterpillars. He kept a dead bat in his toolbox. He always made sure to turn the label out on his can of beer when someone was taking a picture...just in case the brewery wanted to use it for advertising.

He was funny. And there was no doubt that he loved us. It didn't matter how cold or rainy the day was, there was always a tall skinny guy in a plaid jacket standing on the sidelines of every soccer game, sitting in the audience of every school play...

There is no way I can ever talk about the size of a fish I caught without remembering Grampa's trick. It'd be hard to describe, but I'd bet most people reading this know what I mean.

Oh, I also learned the word "jackass" from my Grampa. For years, I knew that jackasses drove others cars around on the road.


I suppose I don't talk about him much, but I truly didn't know him as well as my other grandfather. My Grandpa Fran struggled with his own issues throughout his life and I can't pretend that I know or understand them. I know that there were difficult times when my dad and his brothers and sister were young. I know that he was an alcoholic.

I also know that he loved me. I always knew that.

He left behind him some really great Masterson fathers. My own Dad, Uncle Gary and Uncle Bob, my cousin Tim and my brother Brian...each of them is a man I respect.


As I've gotten older I've realized just how important it was to have men in my life who loved me and made me feel good about myself. Whatever issues or shortcomings they may have had in their own lives or relationships, the relationship I had with each of them has affected me in only positive ways. I've never let a boy make me feel bad about myself. I've always felt like there was someone standing behind me and supporting me. I've always felt safe and protected.

It took growing up some to realize that I'm lucky to have had this.