I read a fact the other day that surprised me; it stated that Father’s Day wasn’t a holiday until 1972 when President Richard Nixon signed a bill introducing it into our American Hallmark world. The month of June and necktie sales haven’t been quite the same since then.
Not that it’s a competition, but Mother’s Day has been around since the 1920’s. And being a mom is a whole different story than being a dad—ask anyone. And even though I’ve never been a father, I've had a VIP seat to fatherhood throughout life. I was lucky enough to grow up with the most incredible dad and later share life with a dad who showed our children what love, commitment, and presence looked like every day. So, I've known enough good ones to consider myself a self-proclaimed expert on the subject.
A good father is a man who is a great teacher. Not the kind who herds children into a classroom and cracks open textbooks, but the kind of teacher that leads by example. Maybe he teaches you how to hold a fishing rod or fix a flat tire, or maybe he simply shows you how to speak gently and keep your word. Dads have a way of waiting for just the right moment and letting lessons land right when you need them.
A good dad also makes sure you know you’re loved. Sometimes that love is loud and clear, with hugs and “I love you’s” at every goodbye. But often, it’s quieter, like warming up the car on a cold morning, never missing a ballgame, or a call every Sunday just to check in. Love like that doesn’t always shout—it just consistently shows up. The challenge for us sometimes, is to weigh the value of 10,000 huge acts of love over those three little words–I know which one I would choose.
A good dad starts from a different place. While mothers often spend nine months forming a connection before a baby ever takes its first breath, fathers have to build that bond in real time. They do it through presence, patience, bedtime stories, life lessons, and thousands of ordinary moments that become the foundation of a relationship. The fathers who make that effort give their children a gift that lasts a lifetime—knowing that he’s there, and the certainty that when Dad says, “If you need anything, call me,” he means it.
A good dad is a giant to his children. They say a father is a daughter’s first true love and a son’s first hero, and for many of us, that’s exactly how it feels. Dad is the one who can fix anything, lift anything, solve any problem, and somehow always knows what to do. He seems invincible and brilliant—part superhero, part Einstein, and capable of just about anything.
What's remarkable is how long we carry that image with us. Even as adults, a part of us still sees Dad as the man who could handle anything. Even after he’s gone that image hangs on. Then one day, almost without noticing, something changes. We begin to see him not as our hero, but as a man who spent years doing his best to carry so much more than we ever knew.
And perhaps that's exactly why Father's Day matters. Not because dads need another gadget, tool, or gift card, but because they deserve to know that the things they carried, taught, sacrificed, and worried about didn’t go unnoticed.
So in honor of dad, on this 54th anniversary of his “Day,” think about doing something special— take the road less traveled. Skip the Amazon cart, and the Home Depot gift that he might pretend to appreciate. Instead, give Dad something far more meaningful than anything that arrives in a box—your gratitude. A few sincere words of appreciation for the life he helped build and the person he helped shape.
And if you're wondering whether those words really matter, they do.
This is where I can truly speak from experience—at the intersection of where motherhood and fatherhood meet. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that parents don't spend decades loving, worrying, sacrificing, teaching, and showing up because they're looking for recognition. But knowing that it mattered makes all the difference.
A father is neither an anchor to hold us back, or a sail to take us there, but a guiding light to show us the way. - Unknown
Shelli Netko (c) 2026
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