A Tribute to Dad

It has come to my attention that churches do tend to neglect the dads on Father’s Day. In that, every Mother’s Day, a beaming usher greets each possible estrogen infused congregant with an ingratiating smile and a droopy carnation that has been deprived of water since the 7am distribution/coffee “fellowship” time. Women always smile demurely with that famed Proverbs 31 grace and murmur a “thank you” for the token gift for childbearing, child-rearing and centuries of political silence and soon the carnation becomes a weapon for aforementioned offspring during the prayer time. However, this is Father’s Day and I digress. My carnation reminiscing stems from the conspicuous absence of any token gift for the pious men in attendance this morning, who are generally laden like mules with diaper bags, Bibles of every genre, gluey Sunday School creations and the most egregious- their wife’s purse. In fact, they might not even have a hand to accept a testosterone trinket from said beaming greeter. Are women celebrated more than men as a version of reparations for any woman who can trace their lineage back to a woman who lived before women’s suffrage? Well, I appreciate the gesture (and still think Gloria Steinem should be committed), however, I would like to laud those men who have always silently sacrificed for the women in their lives. First, is my illustrious father, Neil Kulp, who has not only sacrificed the luxuries of this life for his family, but for others in his acquaintance. Even as a child, during our monthly diner “breakfasts with dad”, he would nurse his coffee, while I polished off donuts, pancakes and eggs. He never took first or took for granted. He always explained my “whys?” He modeled industry, gratitude and frugality. For someone whose fashion exploits can sometimes be unsightly, he has always carried himself like a humble king with a secret confidence impervious to circumstance. For almost all my 25 years (I stop counting at 25), every time I have inquired as to what gift he would like for a holiday, his answer, unfailingly, has been, “I don’t need anything.” Truly, my dad has more treasures stored in heaven than almost anyone I know here on earth. Then, there is my husband Jason who has also sacrificed over a year and a half of his life for not only me, but his country, while serving in Iraq. Unbeknownst to most, Jason never once complained of the blistering heat, the cramped conditions, the paltry food or the danger he daily faced. Rather, and this will shock you Obama-loving readers, he was infinitely proud of his service. Proud to defend liberty and stand amongst the champions of freedom that have worn our uniform in years gone by. Proud to protect the homeland and the family he loved. Proud to preserve the dream of his forefathers. So, really, a male version of the esteemed carnation might just not exist. . . besides, as my dad would say, he wouldn’t really need it anyhow.