This tribute was written on last Sunday’s sunny Father’s Day. Outside my home office window there is a yellow rose given to me by my older brother when our father died.The flowers it offers in spring are a living reminder of a great dad.
As one of five sons of Gerald and Lee Robinson, my memories are of a lucky and loving childhood. I always wonder how Dad did what he did while growing his business as a newspaperman. He took us fishing in lakes and streams and in Elliott Bay and at Neah Bay and Sekiu and many of the state’s big rivers. And sometimes the summer, he would leave his office early and take us to places like Lake Wilderness to swim.
He was coach of our Pony League baseball team. He helped us with our homework. He taught us how to use tools to make or fix things. He imbued us with an appreciation for nature, even though we are pretty sure he made up the names of birds we saw along the trail.
He gave us a love of words and word play and we all, five of us, became writers. He showed us by example how to take a good photo and we all became adept at it.
He gave us by example to have a curiosity about other people, no matter their race or creed, in a way that connected us to the human family.
He taught us to work, to appreciate the value of work and to do every job well and to completion.
In all of his teaching, the best thing he taught us was how to love and he did it by loving us.
His motto was “Maybe something good will happen”. And it is my motto too.
