Last night as I laid in bed it dawned on me what today was: October 28th. You’re probably saying, “Duh Bill! That usually follows October 27th.” But there is a significance to this day that none of you probably care one rip about. October 28th is my dad’s birthday. See, told you that it would have nothing to do with you! 🙂
I wish today held fond memories for me. But like many young men my age, whose father grew up during the years of WWII, something was missing. My dad served in the Navy after the war was over. The war started on September 1, 1939 with Germany’s invasion of Poland and ended on September 2, 1945 with Japan’s formal surrender. The war ended in Europe on May 8, 1945 (VE Day) with Germany’s formal surrender. My father was born in 1927. “Pancho Bill” as he had tattooed on his bicep (I was never told where that came from or why) was too young at the start and before it ended.
He married my mom in 1950 and had my brother who died a day after he was born (diagnosis: open spine) in 1951. I came along in 1952 and got his first name. I had three other brothers after me. I wish I could say I could speak highly of my dad. I can’t. I loved him because he was my dad, but my Christian life learning came largely from my grandfather and my mother. Dad grew up in an abusive home, often going without supper so his father could eat. His mother was a punching bag when she saved food for him to eat later. All that had a lot to do with the way he was.
My dad’s acceptance of me was based on my athletic ability, especially in baseball. When I chose to pursue basketball, it was a whole ‘nother ballgame. (Pun intended). I started playing in 9th grade and it wasn’t until my final two games as a junior in college that my dad saw me play. As life moved on and I married (he didn’t really approve of Jo), I grew closer and closer to her dad and when he died, I cried like a baby after doing the funeral. My dad spent the last years of his life in a nursing home. One visit I was his son. The next I was a family friend. The next he finally figured out who I was, but never did recognize Jo. Dementia and Alzheimer’s did its thing. He died one week after turning 90. The day of his funeral the military guard didn’t come due to the weather. so there was no service. So I was told. To this day, I do not know where he is buried.
Some of you can relate. But I also know, I have another Father who is totally different. A Father who doesn’t waffle in His affection and is never picky depending on how he feels. I’d like to close by including the song, “Good Good Father” by Chris Tomlin but YouTube is being troublesome. So take a moment to listen to it on our own.

