BY DIANA J. INGRAM

Special to the Journal

By now, we’ve all heard of Sonora Smart Dodd of Spokane, Washington, who, in 1909, heard a Mother’s Day sermon at the Central Methodist Episcopal Church and was inspired and “mothered” the idea. Her father took over the complete parenthood role of six children when her mother died.

She believed it was such a heroic thing and thought that fathers should be honored as well. Dodd began to work for a day of recognition in 1920, but it was a slow process. The trades backed the idea (I’m sure that had nothing to do with them seeing another way to make money, I jest).

By 1938, the idea of Father’s Day had grown wings, but it was not until 1966 that President Lyndon B. Johnson issued the first presidential proclamation. OK, fathers, I hear you. It took a while, but just think about how long it took for women to vote.

Before I get into the meat of my topic, I would like to suggest a group that needs special recognition beyond sex: single parents.

That group has grown over the years with the number of divorces, widows and widowers and those who choose not to marry. Raising a child or children is a task, even when done by two. When it’s just one, it’s not doubled—it’s squared.

My daughter, Lara Olson, who dealt with that role for many years, is to me the finest example I can think of. Fulfilling all that is required to raise a child well, and how it’s so much harder, is like winning a triathlon daily.

I did it for such a short time, and I was not very good. So, to all single parents, huzzah! To all fathers, Huzzah!

Now, I want to tell you the true story of something I call my father’s shop. It doesn’t really exist, though I think it would be a lovely idea. Still, for me, it feels very real. If you reflect on it, some of my readers may find it real for them, too.

Most people are fortunate to have good fathers, and some are blessed with great ones. Sadly, others have fathers who fall short or even cause harm. I was one of those children, which left me with a case of what I call “papa envy.” Believe me, it’s real.

When I was very young, I looked at my friends and saw many kinds of fathers—funny, caring, loving, wise, good listeners and understanding.

Then, I began to notice something else: the world is full of father figures, always available if we are willing to see them. Once I understood that, I realized we could all be rich in fatherly guidance.

Throughout my life, I have been given a wide variety of fathers from my shop. My first, and actually most significant, was my maternal grandfather, Day.

He, in the just eight years he was in my life, taught me love (if you’re going to do it, do it big), empathy (care for how others feel) and patience (so you fall. Get back up, no biggie).

He also taught me to learn all that I can while I’m here (may your brain be a sponge), believe (sometimes, you may be wrong, but when you are right!), not judge others, much (OK, your brother is a brat. Love him anyway, he is who he is), love animals (because they love you, honey).

He gave me a hunger for joy and taught me to always keep my eyes open for any opportunity to feel it and give it.

My neighbor across the street, E.O. Beans, and his wife never had children, so they asked if they could borrow me. I said sure. I was taught my first jokes, and he gave me a sense of humor that serves me still. He taught me about nature.

He showed me how to garden and let me plant flowers and watch them grow. Ah, that, too, took patience. I was beginning to catch on. That first tomato, right off the vine, is still the sweetest thing I’ve ever eaten.

When I was an early teenager, I did a lot of babysitting for a couple called Betty and Bob. They were wonderful. Bob warned me about boys (I should’ve listened more carefully) and helped me study and learn the importance of it (if you didn’t get it the first time, read it until you do).

He also demonstrated how a husband should treat his wife, and I watched him with his two children, and I thought, yes, that seems right. He prayed before each meal I shared with them, and I watched how the rest of the family looked at him, with love and respect.

I told myself, look for this. Bob showed me that some people will stand up for you (who knew?), and I cannot count the times this gentle man did just that.

In my husband, Ron Ingram, I saw firsthand what a good stepfather could be. He restored so much belief in me by watching his deeds and seeing them reflected in my children.

Men like Sam Spina, Emil Erecca, and Henry Mello came into my life as father figures when I moved to Los Banos (as a young 41-year-old).

Although they all had children and grandchildren, they opened their hearts and let me in with caring shoulders to cry on, offered me their wisdom, their heritage and knowledge and made me feel warmly accepted. What a gift.

One dad who had a huge impact on me was the father of my best friend, Linda Allegretti. Believe me, she got the mother lode with him. But she shared. The love, patience, wisdom, approval and encouragement he gave me were well worth the wait.

I have a bunch of cards tied with ribbon from him, signed Dad. It’s hard to express what this variety of men who filled father roles meant to me, taught me and shared with me. When Linda’s father, Babe, died, I felt such sadness, but also such gratitude for his gift of love and guidance.

Monsigneur Hayes, who was at Saint Joseph Church in Los Banos until his death, brought me into the Catholic Church, and through him, I learned more about faith and forgiveness than I could have felt that I still needed to learn.

Oh, the many lunches, dinners, talks, classes and notes that this remarkable man of faith shared with me cannot be accurately added to a value.

There is a verse in the Bible about being worth more than rubies. Not enough. This amazing man also gave similar gifts to my husband, Ron, for which I’m eternally grateful.

I admit it, even at the ripe age of 79, I still browse my father’s shop. You are never too old to need a father figure. My eyes are always open.

Fathers have so many titles: father, dad, daddy, poppa, pops, stepfather, grandfather, great-grandfather and father-in-law, among others. The list could go on and on. It is a very important job with immense requirements, but also huge perks.

The main purpose, and by far the most important, is to love. We can live in a small place, have to wear hand-me-down clothes, never have fancy vacations, and that can be OK.

What we all need, no matter what age, is to know you are loved, know that someone believes in you and know they will do their best to protect you. That is the ultimate dream.

To all you fathers and other titles, may this day be filled with expressions of love, words of appreciation, joy and no ties or socks.

To all the millions of men who have at one time been a father figure for someone in need, may I personally thank you. I couldn’t have done this without you.