Each father’s day I gravitate toward the cards and gifts with little wrenches, screwdrivers, and hammers. Thinking back to the strong image that was daddy in my earliest memories. Worn out blue jeans and a tool belt working days in his fathers shop and nights on the home my family would build a life in. in every season, Dad is what we called when something was broken.

In my teenage years, Dad’s penchant for rigging up the broken things in our lives became a source of irritation rather than pride. Even today I role my eyes a bit when I see his creative wheels turning wondering how he might squeeze one more year of usefulness out of some old relic at the house. I’m so different, preferring to throw out the old things in favor other new. If a lawnmower or appliance starts acing up, I pitch it out and start with a new model. I can almost hear my dad persuading, now hold on a minute l...
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