I have an old T-shirt taking up space in my closet. I purchased it some time ago. It doesn’t have a beautiful scene. It’s getting a little worn.
The shirt has a simple message I like because it captures the relationship between a father and his children: Dad, a son’s first hero, a daughter’s first love.
Last week I lost my hero, my rock, my father — Donald Eugene Warden.
This message perfectly describes the bond between my father and me. For as long as I can remember, I looked up to my dad with respect and admiration.
He knew this.
Now it is my turn to share with you what kind of man my father was to me and my kid sister, Denise.
The best thing any father can do for his children is to love their mother. My hero taught me how to treat a lady by the way he treated Mom. I learned how to love my wife, Connie, by watching my dad. Country recording artist Rodney Atkins epitomized that in 2006 with his top-ten single “Watching You.”
That song touches so many hearts because many of us can relate to it.
I’m sure my parents had disagreements as I grew up. But I can honestly say I never heard him raise his voice or saw him lift a hand against my mother. He always treated her with the respect she deserved.
A good father sets the rules of the house and is the disciplinarian. One time my sister and I thought we could get away with coloring on the wallpaper while Mom and Dad were out dancing. That was the only time I felt his belt on my bottom.
Pop — I usually called him that — had a strong faith in God that he passed on to us. One of my earliest memories is resting my head on his shoulder as I closed my eyes during the homily at Immaculate Conception Catholic Church. Mom’s shoulder was too bony, not enough padding.
Later, as I sat in the front pew, I watched him at the ambo reading the Scriptures during Mass. God was calling him to more, so in 1982 he was ordained a permanent deacon in the Catholic Church.
Hard work is a learned behavior. Dad was my example in that arena also. As one of the proprietors of the Gasconade County Republican, the Warden family didn’t take long vacations. I can only remember Dad missing one printing of the newspaper.
Instead, as soon as the paper was at the post office and in the stores on Wednesday, we packed up the van and headed south to one of our favorite campsites, usually Pulltite on the Current River.
That’s where I learned how to relax. Along with the ability to let go comes the gift of laughter. Driving home on Saturday morning, from camping, Dad always had the radio tuned to KMOX out of St. Louis. We listened to Jack Carney’s comedy show, and I was introduced to Jack Benny, Ozzie and Harriet, George Burns, Stiller and Meara and so much more.
As I was growing up in the mid-to-late 70s, the groups of that era included Styx, Boston, and REO Speedwagon. Not Dad’s idea of music.
His preferred music was big band, jazz, and ragtime. A group called The St. Louis Ragtimers was a favorite. They played on the Goldenrod Showboat and performed tunes such as “Hold that Tiger,” “I’ve Been Floating Down The Old Green River,” “I Love to Go Swimmin’ with Wimmen,” and more. I memorized many of those songs as Dad played them on the turntable.
As a young boy, I looked up to my father with admiration; I tried to emulate him. I succeeded Dad in the newspaper business, as he had succeeded his father. I attended the J-School at the University of Missouri like Dad. I sold ads, like him. I served on the board of the Missouri Press Association, like him.
I followed in his footsteps.
Dad taught me that a father supports his children with unconditional love. I never took on the role of the prodigal son, but I never questioned Pop’s love for me, my wife, and my children. It was a given.
The lessons I learned from my father as a boy have stayed with me. Perhaps the most important was family. Family was everything to Dad. On his deathbed, he reminded us all to keep our family strong.
The visitation on Friday reminded us how many other people in our community he touched. Thank you to everyone who shared your stories.
The person I am comes from my role model, my hero. I’ve tried to pass those same values to my children. Thanks dad.
Rest in peace.
