Joanna Radford
Home, Farm, & Garden
There’s a special kind of love that comes from a father— a quiet, watchful, steadfast kind of love that wraps itself around you like armor. As Father’s Day approaches, my heart drifts back to memories of my daddy, the greatest protector I’ve ever known. From the moment I could walk, I walked behind him, placing my small feet in the steps he had just made, wanting to be just like him. Those moments are etched in my soul.
He wasn’t just a provider— he was a teacher, a playmate, a guide, and above all, a protector. I remember helping him train his English Setter bird dogs, the way his voice commanded respect from the animals but also radiated warmth. He raised quail, too, and once asked me to hold one. “Not too tight,” he said, “or it’ll suffocate.”
Of course, when the little bird tried to get away, I clutched tighter, scared of losing it. He knew that would happen. He was teaching me about gentleness and letting go.
I begged to go bird hunting with him once. He agreed, and I was elated. But when we reached the hunting spot, he gently told me to wait in the truck. Two hours later he returned empty-handed, but with a heart full of love. He hadn’t let me go not because he didn’t want me there, but because he didn’t want me to get hurt. His love always came wrapped in protection.
Saturdays were our special days. He would wake me up early, and we’d head downtown to Mt. Airy’s beloved Snappy Lunch for sausage sandwiches. I’ve never had one that tasted as good since. Maybe it was the company. He could make sardines with vinegar taste like a feast. Though I still remember the day he offered that to me just before a date came over. My beau walked in, took one whiff, and nearly turned back out the door. My daddy just smiled, like he knew exactly what he was doing. He probably did.
He shared stories about dumpster diving back when rural counties used scattered bins instead of formal landfills. He’d talk about seeing a head with two eyes peering up from the top, warning us kids that someone else had beaten him to the treasure. We laughed then, and I laugh now, but buried in those stories was a lesson about resourcefulness, in seeing value where others don’t.
My dad loved games, jokes, the ocean, and pulling harmless pranks. One of his favorites? Telling us kids to lie down and look into the sleeve of a raincoat, promising we’d see stars. When we peered up, he’d pour a cup of water through. Oh, we saw stars, but not the ones we expected!
This Father’s Day, take a moment to remember the steps your father made for you. Walk in them if you can. And if those memories are few, make new ones. Dads – your time, your laughter, your protection: those are the gifts your children will hold in their hearts forever.
