We at Love Inspired were Inspired by our Fathers

When it came to us kids, my dad, Herb Chelikowsky,  was a man ahead of the times. In an era when school award events, plays, etc. were presented during day because most mothers were at home and could easily come, Dad would also come whenever he could manage it. He worked a rotating shift-work schedule, so he was often able to come with Mom. Many times, he was the only father there. And he truly enjoyed the programs because he loved kids. He was a Boy Scout leader and Little League Football coach. I'm sure he would have volunteered to help with my Girl Scout troops, if they would have let him.

Jean C. Gordon 

My father often had a bunch of giggling girls in our station wagon.  He'd be driving us to Skateland.  Soon, he'd bring the whole vehicle to a stop.  My friends would say, "What are you doing, Mr. Tracy?"  He'd point to a sign on the side of the road.  He'd say, "That sign says Stop Ahead.  So…" and at this point, he'd look around before continuing, "...I'm looking for a head to stop."  
Albert Tracy always wanted to make my friends - and especially me - smile :)
Pamela  Tracy

Albert Tracy and Pamela

Bill Jacobs, on Diamond, 1970
Louise's Dad

One thing I remember about my father is that he learned how to ride a horse after he turned 65. He'd retired from the newspaper business and bought a photography studio in Colorado, where many of his pictures would be shot among cowboys doing their work, of tourists on guided camping trips, and in the rodeo arena. So why not learn to ride a horse? He even bought a horse of his own and took long rides that made my sweet mother a little nervous. I've always admired his never-say-die courage. I miss you, Dad. 
Louise M. Gouge
 

One of my favorite things about my father is his laugh. It's big and boisterous when he really gets going. So, Daddy, I'm thinking of you this Father's Day, hoping you're having lots of love and laughter!
Missy Tippens

I don’t think my dad ever said a bad word, nor did he talk bad about anyone. In fact, when he was in a group and someone started talking bad about a someone, he’d always bring up something good about that person. He was a trucker and my love of reading and writing came from him. He read my first story, which was about a trucker, for accuracy, and said I got it right—giving me the encouragement I needed to keep at it. I miss you daddy.                                                                                               Janet Lee Barton

My dad was a hard worker. He was a farmer so his day usually started before sunrise and ended at sunset. But dad was also a man who loved playing a board game call Wahoo with his family. In the evenings, after super and baths my family, dad, mom, my little brother and myself would play Wahoo. I can still see his smiling face and eyes dancing with merriment as we played. I miss you daddy but am so happy that I will see you again in Heaven.                                                                                   Rhonda Gibson

My father is amazing in his devotion to family and most of all our mother. One day I remember looking out from the second story window and seeing that dad was mowing my mom's name-Lisa- in great big block letters in the grass as he cut the lawn! Now that's a memory that I'll cherish always! 
Dana Mentink

My dad loved people and people loved him. He never knew a stranger. He worked as a salesman for years. He could sell anything because he related to people. Folks used to come into the store where he worked and ask for him because they’d heard about his effervescent personality. He was such a good salesman that he won a gold-plated derby and a cash prize for being the top sales person in his department. Even though he wasn’t a tall man, he was bigger than life to me. One of my favorite memories from my childhood is standing on his toes while he danced me around the room. He died when I was only twenty-four, so I’ve lived more than half my life without him. I still miss him, but I know I will see him in heaven one day.

 Merrillee Whren

  My father was a farmer. He worked hard for very few rewards. He'd sit on the front porch and stare out at the fields across from our house, his blue eyes vivid and as wide open as the sky. I often wondered when I saw him doing that if he was dreaming of things he'd never be able to attain. He raised seven children on a small salary. We lived off the land--vegetables, meat, chickens and eggs, whatever nature could supply. I didn't realize we were poor until the other children at school pointed it out. It took me a long time to appreciate all the sacrifices my father made for us. Now when I think about him, I can see him in that old rocking chair on the porch, his face as weathered and craggy as the plowed ground that sustained him. He's in heaven now. Probably farming the land up there. :)

 Lenora :)

My dad was the youngest of ten children, and probably because of that, he was a big tease. He loved making people laugh. He also had a servant's heart and
literally gave a man his suit coat once when the man complimented him on it. When he was in the navy, he sent his paychecks home to his elderly parents, who were 45 and 47 when he was born. He loved to buy us treats and cook meals for family and friends. He played the trumpet for over sixty years, including a time when he played on street corners with the Salvation Army. What we put on his gravestone sums him up pretty well: ornery, kindhearted, joyful servant. Dad's in heaven now, but that doesn't stop me from wishing him a happy Father's Day.
Vickie McDonough

Vickie's Dad