This is my dad. His name is Vern Erdman.
He’s seen a lot in his 88 years. His teenage years were spent in the depression, his early years World War II, his working years through the enormous growth of America, and his retirement during the technology boom.
Dad is a plain spoken, farm raised, heart-of-America man. There is nothing fancy about him. He never had a big job and never sought out the spotlight.
I could always find Dad. He was always whistling or singing. He was also always working. There wasn’t a lot of idle time. But, he was happy. If I wanted to be around him, I would help him with chores. There’s something about the bond of a father and son working together.
Political correctness was and is not practiced in my parents’ home. Saying what you think is part of survival. Knowledge is a requirement. Visit my father and you will be engaged.
The topics from my visit a week ago ranged from gay marriage, abortion, the economy, Obama and people wanting too much. Bill Maher has nothing on this guy. When I was 16, my virginity was discussed at the dinner table. Nothing is off limits.
Dad has two radios going on most of the time. He roots for the Brewers, Badgers and Packers, against the Yankees, Bears and Cubs. He follows the stock market like most people follow the weather.
He can’t see anymore. His hearing is limited. He’s had health issues that would have killed many men several times over. But, believe me, he misses nothing, and hasn’t felt sorry for himself…ever.
I’m a lucky guy. The model for my life has been in front of me for my 51 years. Thank you Dad, and Happy Father’s Day.