Good Timber

I had a wonderful Father’s Day. My three sons were all home from their busy summer schedules. They went to church with me. We had a nice lunch with my in-laws. The boys couldn’t wait to give me my Father’s Day present – an iPod!

I asked them if this officially made me the coolest dad on the planet. They said I won’t qualify as long as I’m still driving a mini-van.

I also got a new shirt. Both presents were special, but the greatest gifts of all were the notes I received from them.

This is what I gave my dad on Father’s Day. It is what he asked from each of his children. He’s always been that way. He doesn’t want a new tie or a cordless screw driver. The words of his two sons and three daughters are far more important to him.

So I wrote him a letter. And I didn’t pick out a fancy Father’s Day card. I wrote it on stationary I got from artist Butler Brown’s studio in Hawkinsville.

A few years ago, Brown painted a legendary tree that once stood along the side of the road of U.S. 41 near Perry. The tree was so majestic people used to stop and admire it. He called this painting “The Perfect Oak.’’

That’s my dad. He’s tall and sturdy. His his roots run deep. He provides shade in summer and warmth in winter. He has lived a long and good life. He has stories to tell. And those who have met him along the road do not pass under his branches without great admiration for the man.

J. Williard Marriott once wrote this poem. Whenever I read it, I think of my father.

Good timber does not grow in ease
The stronger wind, the tougher trees
The farther sky, the greater length
The more the storm, the more the strength
By sun and cold, by rains and snows
In tree or man, good timber grows.