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My thoughts this year as Father’s Day draws near have surprised me! I have always been a self-proclaimed “Daddy’s girl.” I just really never gave the reasons for that fact much thought. As an only child, I was extremely close to both my parents but always wanted to bask in my Dad’s love more than my mom’s. Maybe that was because my mom was always at home and readily available, but in looking back over some important events in my life, I can see why my adoration for my dad grew and grew. As an adult, he was there for me more than my mom was.

When I graduated college, Dad and I drove together to the ceremony with my mom and her parents coming separately later in the afternoon. I can still remember listening to Glen Campbell sing “Wichita Lineman ” as we drove to the Hofstra University campus. How proud I was to arrive on campus with him by my side!

A few years later I had moved to an apartment about fifteen minutes away from my parents’ home. The first time I tried to clean my oven there I made a gross mistake and inhaled the fumes from EZ OFF . It was my dad who came to my rescue and cleaned up my mess. I was astounded since I’d never known him to do kitchen work before this incident. Yes, Dad loved me and wasn’t afraid to show it.

Fast forward a few years to when I suffered the loss of my first really serious love.  I called home in tears, truly hysterical. Dad came to get me and bring me home to recover. There was no criticism, only compassion and sympathy. I felt safe and protected while I healed emotionally and prepared to face the world again.

The next year, 1975, I moved to Apalachicola, Florida. It was Daddy who drove me and my two cats to our new home. This was a serious sacrifice on his part, since he didn’t like cats and they meowed for hours on end during the two days we journeyed in my little Camaro. When I planned a move to my home in Moncks Corner, he’d made two trips from New York, one to help me locate the right house and the next to help me move my possessions. He stayed to work on my backyard and I always held the two weeks we shared during my move to Apalach and then the week in Moncks Corner in my heart as gifts that were priceless. The best gift ever was when he decided to move to South Carolina after my mom passed away. Those last three years of his life, even with the ups and downs we survived emotionally, will always be the best gift Daddy ever gave me. Yes, I was Daddy’s girl!  So, this Father’s Day I take time out to remember him and share some of his legacy with you.

My dad, Peter Sven Almind, was of Danish descent. He was raised in a family with two brothers and three sisters. Dad’s in the middle of the photo below along with his brothers,  John, on the left and Carl, on the right.

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Born in 1919, he was 22 years old when World War II began. Drafted to serve in the Army Air Corp, he was sent to work with chemical warfare, stationed in London, England for three years.

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Upon returning home in 1945, he married my mom and devoted his life to work as a carpenter. He built the home in which I grew up in North Merrick, NY and helped Jim and I when we built our home in Conway. Although in his 80’s by then, he still wanted to  be involved in our project.

This is too brief a picture of the man I called “Daddy” and then “Dad,” but I honor him this Father’s Day by sharing these memories with you and thank God for having had him as my father. I was truly blessed!

 


 

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Born in 1919, he was 22 years old when World War II began and was drafted to serve in the Army Air Corp. He was assigned to chemical warfare and served three years in London, England.