Father’s Day on the Ohio homefront
As Father's Day approaches, guest columnist Lee Fisher reflects on what the holiday has meant to him and shares a letter he wrote to his dad while overseas during the Vietnam War.
There is some debate about the origin of Father’s Day in the U.S. Some have suggested that the first celebration of Father’s Day was in Fairmont, West Virginia, in July 1908. Other sources claim that a woman by the name of Sonora Smart Dodd of Spokane, Washington, thought of the idea of Father’s Day while listening to a Mother’s Day sermon in 1909. Miss Dodd had been raised by her father, Henry Jackson Smart, after her mother’s death. Her father, in her eyes, was a courageous, selfless and loving man. The story goes that she held the first Father’s Day celebration in Spokane and chose the month of June because of her father’s birth in June.
Regardless of its exact origin, Father’s Day soon became a much-anticipated day in the United States, and in 1924, President Calvin Coolidge proclaimed the third Sunday in June as Father’s Day.
I’m sure that the third Sunday in 1970 was a joyous one for many fathers around the country. For others, it was, perhaps, one of the saddest days of all time because the Vietnam War was still raging. Over six thousand (6,000) soldiers were killed in action in Vietnam in June 1970, making this one month more fatal in U.S. military lives than any June — or any year — since then.
It had been a little more than a month since I had written to my mother about Mother’s Day that I sat down to pen a letter to my father, George, in June. He never said anything to me about this letter. For that matter, he didn’t dwell on any of my Vietnam experiences after I returned home, safely, approximately two months after I tried to convey my love and respect for him in the following letter. Perhaps there was too much emotion for both of us to speak about the past. Perhaps we were just both happy to be able to share a firm handshake and an embrace and glad to put a wrenching 14 months behind us. We could never find a comfort zone with my experiences. Perhaps we were both content to get on with our lives, trusting that love and faith would ease the pain that we both felt during my absence.
The letter and this story are a tribute to my dad, and the millions of fathers, past and present, who have had to share their sons and daughters with strangers in far-off places.
June 14, 1970
Dear Dad,
One of the guys out here on the hill just mentioned that Father’s Day was in a week or so. I thought I would, in a humble sort of way, try to write this letter as a sort of Father’s Day card. We are a bit short on the card supply, if you know what I mean.
I really don’t know where to start in attempting to thank you for your part in helping me get through this past year. It has been an extremely rough one for the entire family, considering all that has happened to each of us. I know that the things you have done for me would have been done even if I weren’t your son. You, undoubtedly, would have done just as much for a stranger because that’s the kind of person you are. Not only have you helped mom get through this; but Alice (sister). Karen (sister), and Rosemary have benefited from your kindness as a father and a compassionate human being. Know this, please, even if misfortune strikes me before I get home.
Soon, I will be out of this hell hole and walking through the front door. I know that we will continue to have disagreements; but at this time and place, I can think of no other man that I would claim more willingly as a father. You are someone who has stuck with me and groomed me through thick and thin.
Sometime, during the week of June 24 through the 30th, I will be able to make another MARS call as I did before. I sure do thank the HAM radio operators for taking these satellite calls and relaying them to you at home. We are only allowed access to the radios at certain times, and I hope the radio beams are working the next time I try a call.
Mom said in a letter that you will be taking your vacation when I come home. I am looking forward to having you there to talk to. The things I have seen and had to experience have worked on my mind a bit. I hope that there are people who are willing to listen to me when I need to talk.
I’ll close now as I have to take my shift on guard in a few minutes. I have to sit in a hole that will be filled with water in a few hours because of the rain. In the long run, it makes no difference whether it’s on a hill or in the bush. I only get out when it gets up around my neck. Take care of yourself, and know that my deepest feelings are with you on Father’s Day.
Love, Lee
I was with my dad the last few days of his life a number of years ago. Even then, we could not bring ourselves to discuss the raw emotions of 1969 and 1970. Right before he died, he said to me, “I’m glad to have you here. Be sure to take care of your mother.”
He left me with little concern for himself but a lot of concern for others. I really shouldn’t have expected anything different from a man who turned his head every time I said, “Dad.”
Lee Fisher is a resident of Oxford, a Vietnam veteran and a Miami graduate.
