I’m having some Saturday Night Genealogy Fun (#SNGF), with help from Randy Seaver and his prompts! Feel free to join in.

SNGF: Three Things about Dad

Saturday Night Genealogy Fun: June 20, 2026

Prompt: “Sunday is Father’s Day in the USA, and usually a time for memories and gratitude to our paternal birth person. For this week’s SNGF, tell us three things about your father that are special and memorable to you.”

Introduction

Dad could have become a distant memory.

In the days when divorce often meant that the mother had custody and the father had “visitation,” it would have been easy for him to fade into the background of our lives. But that was never Dad’s way.

He bucked the system and got every-other-weekend visitation, which he kept up for a decade until we were grown, along with two weeks each summer. Because of that persistence, I do not have to reach for faint impressions of him. I have memories. Real ones. Plenty of them.

Which is fortunate, because this week’s prompt asks for three things that made Dad special and memorable to me.

And yes, I know Dad is probably annoyed with me from beyond the grave for being late with this post.

But, Dad, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

1. Dad Had a Strong Sense of Justice

Dad had a very strong sense of right and wrong, and he did not particularly care who he had to challenge in order to do what he believed was fair.

He fought in court for his daughters when it would have been immensely easier to let it go. First, there was the fight for visitation. Later, there was a custody fight. Those were not small things. They took time, money, energy, and determination. But Dad believed he belonged in our lives, and he acted on that belief.

That sense of justice did not disappear when we grew up. In retirement, he became a frequent writer of letters to the editor of the local newspaper, doing his best to make sure people saw things “the right way.”

Or, at least, Dad’s way.

There was something very consistent about that. Whether in court, in the newspaper, or in ordinary conversation, Dad believed things mattered. Fairness mattered. Truth mattered. Showing up mattered.

2. Dad Kept Stretching His Boundaries

Dad was an accountant, which might suggest a man of numbers, order, and sensible routines.

And he was that.

But he was also the father who would wake me up to show me the beauty of the full moon.

When I was small and scared during a thunderstorm, he sat with me and helped me see the lightning differently. Instead of treating it only as something frightening, he showed me the pretty way it lit up the backyard.

That stayed with me.

Dad was willing to stretch beyond what came naturally to him. This city boy became a tent camper when he had a girlfriend who liked to camp. He did not have to become outdoorsy, but he was willing to try something new. He was willing to step outside his usual boundaries.

I think that is one of the quieter lessons he gave me: you do not have to be only one thing. You can be practical and still notice beauty. You can be cautious and still try something unfamiliar. You can be an accountant and still wake your child up to see the moon.

3. Dad Believed in Education

The theme that keeps reverberating through my life is Dad’s emphasis on education.

Education helped him get ahead in life, and he did his best to make sure his children had that opportunity, too. Two of his three children hold master’s degrees. My charitable inclinations have always leaned toward educational causes. I am a lifelong learner, frequently finding some new formal education to try out. Even my career has developed around technical training.

That influence did not stop with a diploma or a single phase of life. It became part of how I understand the world.

Learn more. Try again. Take the class. Read the book. Figure it out.

That sounds like Dad.

Thank You, Dad

So those are three things that made Dad special and memorable to me: his sense of justice, his willingness to stretch, and his deep belief in education.

But really, they all come back to the same thing.

Dad showed up.

He showed up in court. He showed up every other weekend. He showed up for summer visits. He showed up during thunderstorms. He showed up with opinions, newspaper letters, moonlit moments, and high expectations.

Thank you, Dad – for those things, and so much more.

Figure 1 Dad and me at my high school graduation

AI Disclosure

This post was created by me with the help of AI tools. While AI helps organize research, the storytelling and discoveries are my own.