HONORABLE MEN

I love it when my blog date falls on Father's Day because it gives me an opportunity to honor my dad as well as yours.

Happy Father's Day to all the important men in your life!

Today, I'd like to talk about two men in my life. One's real. The other's fictional, but so real to me I feel as though he's stepped off the page and stolen my heart.

First, my dad.

Along with the wonderful traits of being a good husband and father and family provider, he had a few quirks. One of them was being the eternal fixer-upper.

From a couple of pieces of plywood and a few two-by-fours, he could make a set of bookshelves that doubled as a room divider. From a snarl of old twine, he could crochet a sack to keep his extra cash safe when he went off on a road trip on his motorcycle. He could transform a pile of chicken bones and a handful of herbs into the best soup you've ever tasted.

But my dad could never take a set of directions or a recipe and follow along step-by-step. Oh, no—he had to do things his way.

So does the hero of my August Harlequin American, HONORABLE RANCHER.

Ben Sawyer's way is to offer a hand in friendship, to be there when folks need him, to live up to everyone's expectations. To be the boy next door to the woman he's always loved from afar. The widow of his best friend.

Until...

Until he realizes he can't live his life following along step-by-step.

Until, like my dad, he decides to throw away the directions and do things his way.

This decision changes his life and that of the woman he loves...and just about everyone else's in the small town of Flagman's Folly!

Hmm...

I think it has suddenly hit me why I love and respect and look up to Ben Sawyer.

And why I dedicated HONORABLE RANCHER to my dad.

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On this special day, I hope you'll take a moment to honor the special men in your life—and to leave a comment or share a story about one of them here.

 All my best to you,


Barbara


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Barbara White Daille
http://www.barbarawhitedaille.com
http://www.facebook.com/barbarawhitedaille
https://twitter.com/BarbaraWDaille

Father's Day

Since yesterday was Father's Day, I thought I'd share some photos from our visit with my husband's 92 year old father at his home in Denton, Texas. He's one of the people responsible for me writing about small towns and the people who live there. He and my late mother-in-law told wonderful stories of growing up in Texas, southwest of Fort Worth. He lived in an area near Dennis, TX, on the Brazos River. He called it the "Big Valley," which is the equivalent of bottom land for those of us more familiar with large rivers. The house he grew up in is still there, in the photo on the left.

My mother-in-law spent the first 17 years of her life in Lingleville, TX, which is near Stephenville. She grew up on a smaller farm with much poorer soil, less water and more rocks. It was a tough life which she escaped though education, attending college where she met my father-in-law. Many of the stories he's told us through the years centered around people they stayed with and knew, distant relatives and friends of friends who helped out.

Yesterday we had a great visit, heard a few more stories (and some of them the second or third or tenth time,) and watched our grandchildren play in his spacious home. We treasure these visits and I always take lots of photos because I want the girls to remember their great-grandfather, whom they call "Dad." I doubt that they will remember the stories, but I have plans to record them on my Flip video and store them for the future. After all, Dad probably only has 10 or 20 good years left! Happy belated Father's Day to all the dads and to everyone who no longer has their dad to visit and listen to and get advice from, I hope you hold on to the all the good memories forever. Perhaps when the girls are older (like 25 or so!) I'll suggest they read my books for the essence of the stories from their great-grandparents and so many other Texans I've met in the past 39 years.

And a special memory of my dad, Art Chancellor, on one of our trips to the Smoky Mountains. I miss you, Daddy.

My Hero, My Dad

First, I have to say thanks to Jacqueline Diamond for taking her blog day to talk about the Harlequin American blog. We'd love to have input about what you--our readers--would like to see here!

And now...

Romances are all about the heroes and heroines of our books. With Father's Day just behind us, I thought I'd share a memory of my very first hero.

At all of six years old, I'd taken on the first-time responsibility of caring for a pet. Three pets, actually--three little goldfish that swam in a small plastic fishbowl. I watched over these little guys, fed them and, when necessary, filled their bowl with fresh water. To do this, I had to carry the bowl to the laundry room where we had a big iron sink almost as tall as I was. With a long-handled net, I'd transfer the goldfish to a smaller bowl until their bigger home was ready.

One day--you've probably guessed it!--one of the fish got away. He flipped and flopped out of the net and fell into the sink, then promptly slid down the drain. I promptly screamed "Daddy!" as loudly as my lungs would allow.

He came on the run, imagining who knows what deadly accident had happened to me. The fish was long gone, I was in hysterics, but none of that bothered my dad. He quickly figured out the situation and went to work.

On the floor beside the tub was a square metal plate with drainage holes. He lifted the plate and told me to turn on the faucet. I couldn't imagine why he wanted me to do that, but I did it, anyway. Seconds later, water came rushing from the pipe--and the goldfish splish-splashed right into Dad's hands!

I was so amazed at this magical feat, at first I didn't notice that the fish was no longer breathing. I also didn't follow very closely what Dad did next. To this day, all I know is, it involved hot water, cold water, and salt, not necessarily in that order.

A few moments later, the goldfish's fins began to move, then his tail began to twitch and, finally, he shook his entire body like a puppy dog. He swam around and around the goldfish bowl as if he'd never left it.

That's the day I first knew my dad was a hero.


How about you? Have any stories about your hero dad? I'd love to hear them!


All my best to you,

Barbara

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Barbara White Daille
http://www.barbarawhitedaille.com