After just going through Mother’s Day and seeing all the nice, sweet, loving post my friends posted on Facebook I am feeling inadequate as a father. I would like to get a few things off my chest that have been bothering me. My father often tried to drill into my head the fact that I had a good last name and he expected me to live up to it. Though my family name is Algood, pronounced all-good, I must admit I am not. Far from it. I have flaws. Lots of flaws. And as for being a father I often feel like I have failed miserably. I would like to apologize to my daughters for not being the father they deserved. I am certain on a bookshelf somewhere there exist a manual on fatherhood that I should have read before becoming a parent. I know I could have done a much better job somehow, someway, had I studied it, but fatherhood kind of ‘snuck’ up on me. I was a carefree young man one day then, BOOM, I was a father to three daughters. Even worse, I grew up in a mostly male family, and I had no idea how to be a father to daughters.

I would like to apologize to them for the times I gagged while changing diapers. I was surprised something so vile could ooze forth from something so cute and cuddly. Forgive me girls for the times I took you out into the backyard and hosed you down hoping a breeze would help blow away that foul odor. Perhaps enough time has elapsed by now that the neighbors and folks driving by our house have forgotten.

I apologize for that time I was watching you when you were little while your mother ran a few errands and I fell asleep. In my defense I must say that I had just come home from working the night shift and was exhausted. However, I never dreamed you would find those permanent markers and draw all over my face while I slept. That wasn’t nice. But I forgive you.

I apologize for not working a normal eight to five job like most dads. I missed far too many of your school and sporting events working at the mill. I wish I could have been off all those Christmases, birthdays and holidays, but I had to make a living. I wish I could have been there to share more of those experiences with you.

I apologize for buying you cars that were less than you expected or deserved when you turned sixteen. I know your friends were driving nicer ones, but you had to settle for less. I learned used, gold four door cars are not on a young girl’s wish list. And I’m sorry for tying those flamingos in the trees over you vehicles and letting them poop on your cars when you took my parking spot. Who knew pink Play-Dough would leave oily spots? I didn’t. Like I always say, “Live and learn.”

I apologize for not being more pleasant to some of the young men who came to the door when you began dating. The piercings and Mohawks surprised me. I was a young guy once and I had a pretty good idea what they had on their minds. I only wanted the best for you and I finally came to learn dating was like learning to drive. You had to experience a few wrecks before you got the hang of it. I, also, apologize for not shooting a couple of them, but in my defense I didn’t want to go to prison.

I apologize for believing you were more grown up and responsible than you actually were at times. I’m referring to that time your mom and I went to Europe on our 25th anniversary and left you alone to guard our castle. Imagine my surprise when I returned home and a neighbor informed us about the party you had thrown to celebrate our leaving the country. If it was a going away party I’m sorry I missed it. I didn’t get the memo. Plus, thanks for the new dents in my truck and car I discovered on my return home. They were uniquely placed. A deer and a mailbox?

But you know something? Despite all my shortcomings as a father I’m really proud of you girls and how you turned out. All three of you amaze me. You have children of your own now, and I feel like I wasn’t such a failure after all. You are doing a terrific job raising my grandchildren. Either you found that manual on parenthood I overlooked or I was a really great bad example of things not to do. Your children are perfect, each in their own way.

I just want you all to know I love you more than you can possibly imagine. Thanks for allowing me to be your father.

Love, Dad

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Rick Algood
May 10, 2016