Things My Father Taught Me

My father was a shy man
until you got to know him.
Then he was happy to talk
about anything—
things you were interested in
appealed to his curiosity,
things that he was passionate about,
like history and politics,
he could talk about for hours.

He taught me that having a gentle soul
didn't mean a man was weak;
that as horrific as war is,
there are some things worth the fight.
He was a pacifist at heart,
but told me we have to stand up for what's right.
He knew this from a young age
and stayed the course throughout his life.

Through my father's example,
I learned about the world of imagination.
He was never too tired to play with us,
to create stories out of thin air,
to pretend we were out for a sleigh ride in the snow
or on a train making up tales of how the towns got their names.
In the telling, these things came to life,
as real as if they'd come out of a book.

He taught me his family was his life,
and this gentle man would do anything to protect us.
The only times I ever saw him truly enraged
was when someone hurt one of us.
Even if he feared the same things we did,
he stepped forward—our knight in shining armor.
No ocean too deep, no foe too awful,
no matter how old I was,
I knew I was safe if my father was there.
I knew I was loved.

He taught me to be proud of myself,
because he always was proud of me.
He taught me that what was inside
is what truly made someone beautiful.

He told me I was special,
and because he loved me,
I believed it. 

~Elise Skidmore ©2026