Thanks to a great dad
If you know my father, Joel Taylor, you know he is larger than life and cannot be summed up in a 250-word letter to the editor. You also know that summing up is not his gift. Those who have been cheered, instructed or entertained by his Niagara Falls of words know that what he lacks in brevity, he makes up for in, well, everything else. But being one of his three children, I can vouch for his verbal restraint.
Kids break stuff. They throw up on stuff, trip over stuff and drop stuff. Because I’ve always excelled at the latter two, it was no surprise to my father when one Sunday morning in our huge farmhouse kitchen, I tripped and dropped a dozen eggs. And this man with a thousand words for every breath held his tongue and quietly joined me on the floor with paper towels, trash can and a smile.
Skipping the lecture, he joyfully scooped up handfuls of slime with me, likening the texture to things only a 6-year-old should admit are hilarious.
This is the scene that flashes through my mind whenever my kids accidentally make a horrible mess, which is more often than you’d guess, because they share my DNA.
King Solomon didn’t have a 250-word limit, but he succinctly nailed it here: “The words of a wise man’s mouth are gracious.” I like to think he skipped the lecture when his kids broke the eggs.
Thanks, Dad. Happy Fathers Day!