Fifty years ago this spring we planted kohlrabi together in a garden in Charles City， Iowa。
I didn’t know then that I would remember that day for the rest of my life。 This week， we’ll plant kohlrabi together again， perhaps for the last time but I hope not。 I don’t understand why planting kohlrabi with you is so important to me but it is。 And the funny thing about it is， well， I don’t know quite how to tell you this， Dad。。。I don’t even like kohlrabi。。。but I like planting it with you。
I guess what I’m trying to say， Dad， is what every son and daughter wants to say to their Dad today。 Honoring a Father on Father’s Day is about more than a Dad who brings home a paycheck， shares a dinner table， and attends school functions， graduations， and weddings。 It isn’t even so much about kohlrabi， ’54 Chevrolets， and fly—fishing。 It’s more about unconditionally loving children who are snotty and stubborn， who know everything and won’t listen to anyone。 It’s about respect and sharing and acceptance and tolerance and giving and taking。 It’s about loving someone more than words can say，and it’s wishing that it never had to end。
I love you， Dad。
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