A Letter to Thom Heward on Father's Day

Hey Dad! Happy Father's Day!

Dad, your mouth is almost always open in photos because you're
either laughing or saying something ridiculous. I love that about you.

I just wanted to let you know that I am thinking about you today, on this, the day that we honor and think about our fathers. Here's some things I'd like to thank you for:

Thank you for your laugh - I like your laugh. A lot. And you make sure that I get to hear it often. My favorite of your laughs is when you laugh so hard you wheeze silently, with little squeals of chuckle the end of each breath, only to gasp for more air and squeal again while slapping your knee. I've only ever seen you laugh that hard at Mike and Dave, and at movies with ridiculous slap-stick comedy (like the newest "Get Smart"), which makes me like that laugh even more. 

Thank you for your ingenuity. You can take anything and turn it into, well, anything. Like this picture of you pulling Bridger down the road on a snow shovel:

One of my favorite stories of you is how you managed to lift a giant tree that had fallen onto our house using nothing but Re Bar and an old car jack on metal casters. The house creaked a sigh of relief as you slowly jacked up the tree, and we breathed sighs of relief that no one died in the process. I remember that Berkley asked you to pray about whether or not that was a good idea before you went through with it because he thought "God will tell him that this is a terrible idea and that we are all going to die". But we all felt okay about it, and yes, in the end, it worked. 

Thanks for cheering.  For cheering me on at all of my sporting events over the years. For cheering at camps. For cheering when I graduated from high school and then college. Your voice had a unique way of making it through the din to my ears, and I was ever-encouraged, even if I acted like an embarrassed teenager. Maybe I heard you because you would sometimes cheer when no one else was cheering, and maybe it was because it was a voice I'd heard again and again over the years at campfires at Camp Grizzly, or across our field to tell me to get out of the creek, or that mom wanted me. But I always thought, "There's my dad".

You and I on the Salmon, 2008. There's
that open mouth again :)

Thank you for taking me to the mountains and the rivers when I was young. It was the very beginning of a long love-affair that I have with those places, and that I long for when I am away. Your excitement and joy still echoes in my bones when I think about you when I am there. Can we go back together, sometime soon?

Thanks for being a Boy Scout. You're one of the best I know. You're ever-trustworthy, loyal to the bone, helpful in every way, courteous, so, so kind, cheerful (everyone knows that), thrifty (sometimes to a fault, you penny-finding machine!), brave, clean in heart and mind, and reverent beyond my understanding.  You know a lot of campfire songs, some of the best, and because you taught them to your sons, they live on and on after every single campfire at Camp Grizzly, and "ever more shall be it so", even if the people singing it don't know it's origin. 

Thanks for being strong. Like, muscley-strong. It's genetic, I know, and it's something I've been proud of, being one of "those Hewards", since I can remember. I remember one time, on a very rare occasion, you were wearing shorts (*gasp!*), and so was I. We stood next to each other. I stood next to you and looked down at our legs. They looked almost identical, except for yours were a lot hairier. In response to what I saw, I said "Thanks for the man-legs, Dad."
You paused, then looked at me and said "Well...you'll never roll an ankle?!"

We laughed, but what you said was so, so true. There's been many times I was at the bottom of a pile of people on the Rugby pitch and I would think "Man, I'm sure glad I don't have bird-legs right now". So yes - thank you for being strong. 

You and Juniper, looking at toes

Thanks for loving my kids. They adore you. You're the best Grandpa anyone could ever, ever hope for. 

Thank you for your deep thinking. You, Dad, are a deep thinker. I know that there's some very complex, important knowledge deep down in that brain of yours. I think that deep thinkers like you sometimes have a hard time deciphering those deep, important thoughts into words that the rest of the world can understand, and I want you to know that that is okay. Sometimes there's a reason for that, and in the meantime, keep sharing when you feel it's right, and I'll keep listening. I love that. 

Thank you for your love. Your love of the Lord, your love of people, your love of hard work, your love of a nicely mowed lawn, your love of cats and dogs and chickens, and more. That's love that you've passed onto me. 

I could go on, but I think it suffices to say that I love you, Dad, and I am glad you were born today. Keep up that good work you're doing of being alive!

Your youngest daughter, Emily