My dad's hand clapsing a friendly Bitburger.
AS FATHER'S DAY approaches in Ireland, I think about my dad's hands and how I can't clasp them anymore.
Dad was an honest man--more honest than me. He was a devoted man, a charitable soul. When I walk into community gatherings near my family home in Lancaster County (Pennsylvania), I watch people sit up and wonder because I bear a striking physical resemblance to my dad. But all they have to do is look at my hands and realise I'm not the real deal. There's nobody like my dad and nobody I'd rather wish "Happy Father's Day" than him.
Now that he's gone and another Father's Day rolls around, I'll celebrate his memory by having a pint, eating shrimp, munching on olives and shelling peanuts. It's important to keep family traditions alive by doing things dad once showed me with his hands.
Bernie Goldbach is a blow-in American living in Ireland.
Sandy Pugh -- "My Father's Hands" on The Rural Messenger, June 10, 2012.
