My dad was my idea of the perfect man. He could work hard in the mines and come out covered in coal dust, but to see him any other time, the man was the definition of fresh. When he went out, he was always dressed to the nines; I’m sure I got my love of fashion from him.

Every time my mom and I went shopping, we had to give him a fashion show wearing what we’d bought. He never hollered at us for buying too many clothes or shoes. And boy did he love his hats. You hardly ever saw him without one, except when he was indoors. And not baseball caps, either. His hat of choice was a fedora. Wool, straw, canvas-he had them all. Regarding footwear, I remember hearing him say, “Always keep your shoes clean. Dirty shoes make you look bad. You can tell a lot about people by their shoes.” I’m pretty sure that came from his Army MP days.

Always on an even keel, he only rarely got so angry that the veins would stand out on his temples (That happened more frequently when I was a teenager.) For the most part, he was a quiet man, but once you got him talking about a subject he was interested in, look out.

He loved science. There were Popular Science and Popular Mechanics magazines all over the house growing up, which is probably where I got my love of technology. He loved Studio Wrestling, as it was called back then, then the WWF. You either joined the screaming and hollering on Saturday afternoons, or stayed far, far away. And you didn’t dare call it fake.

He also taught me to enjoy the outdoors. I helped him in both his flower and vegetable gardens, we picked blackberries in deep woods, and just putzed around outside. Although he never said it, summer was his favorite season.

My dad left us in February of 1995, one year after my daughter was born. I miss him to this day. Happy Father’s Day, Daddy. If I smell your pipe smoke outside later, I’ll know you heard me.