Growing up my Dad worked 6 days a week. He owned his own business with my Mom, restoring antique stoves and running an antique thrift shop.
If he wasn't in his shop working he'd be traveling all over the Bay Area doing service calls to fix stoves. He told me once the busiest time of year was the holidays because everyone needed their ovens to work so they could feed their families. My brother and I spent time with my Dad while he worked. We all took long trips to the scrap yard (I was in it for the pancake breakfast), helped move furniture and dusted the antiques in the store. In high school my Dad had to get a job at the city because the store wasn't doing as well.
Even when he got that job he continued the stove business without the store front.
The majority of my childhood memories of my Dad are of him working in his shop.
My whole life he has worked so hard to provide for my family. He always told me to pick a job that used my mind, not my hands. He just wanted better for his kids.
One time after getting home from his city job he sat down for a few minutes. Then he said "Ok I'm going to go work outside"
I asked "Don't you get tired of working?"
He looked at me like he was so glad one of his kids had finally asked this question.
He said "Yes. I do."
Then got up and went to work.
Happy Father's Day to my Dad, one of the hardest working men I know.
