Characters

Now that father’s day has come and gone, I can finally write — not because the calendar says so, but because I mean it. My dad’s a real character. Everything about him proves that — his enormous musical talent, his corny sense of humor, his magician-like ability to create a masterpiece out of trash can lids, kazoos and power tools, his unending love for his bride. He’s not a demonstrative man, not apt to give casual praise or deliver prepackaged sentiments just because it’s “time to.” But he is very likely to look you in the eye, wait a beat so you know he really means it, and then say with voice breaking, “you did great” or “we’re proud of you” or “that was your best ever.” He taught me about value, purpose, honesty, humility, pride, and perseverance. He taught me to work hard and long, and to do it with passion. He taught me that excellence is worth pursuing. He taught me that heart is even more valuable than excellence. He taught me never to settle, never to give ...

Google the definition of “character” and you’ll find his bio and mug shot. A Viet Nam vet who’s fought tooth and nail on the battlefield and in life, Woody has taught me more about faith, honesty, friendship and survival than he’ll ever know. He may dress up like a responsible adult, but the earring, ponytail, ink and jeans tell the true story. This guy's a little bit hippy, little bit biker, lotta bit dad, with a more than a few tightly-muzzled military ghosts circling his head. A perplexing blend of contradiction, this salty, surly, cussing, encouraging, witty, wise old dog can prompt a belly laugh and bring me to tears all in the same breath. The mischievous twinkle in his eye tells you he’s got something up his sleeve, but the slump of his shoulders reveals a lifetime of struggle and hard labor. Rightly so. He outlasted Viet Nam. And along with his forever-ravishing wife, he raised a beautiful family, built a wonderful home, and earned a solid living. Oh. And he also s...