Some sixty years ago, I remember walking home from grade school with friends, which was a daily adventure. My memory of anything that happened so long ago could not be used as evidence in a court of law, but I definitely remember parts of conversations.

Why we were talking about televisions, I don’t recall, but I’ve never forgotten my classmate saying her Dad had built a television. I was not particularly impressed with watching TV, but I was more than impressed about her Dad’s accomplishment. I have no idea the size of the television or how long it took to build it. She probably told us some information, but I was too busy being stunned by her Dad building a television.

I genuinely loved my Dad, but I knew there was no way he could have accomplished something so grand. He could tell me about baseball, where the best seats were in Wrigley Field or Busch Stadium, but a builder he was not. And for a bit of time, that realization bothered me.

It was not something I discussed with my Dad, as I’m certain he was perfectly aware of his shortcomings. He seemed to have adjusted well to challenges. Laughter was a large part of his personality and charm, and, best of all, he could laugh about himself. He had high standards about his convictions that included being kind and doing his best to give people the benefit of the doubt.

My Dad was a people person. He worked many years selling Manor House Coffee to grocery stores and restaurants. He enjoyed his job, but things changed internally as they often do and he decided to make a career change. He preferred working with people, and he began working at the Peoria Secretary of State Facility. He eventually became known as the “older, friendly gentleman who always wanted you to smile for your picture, and if you didn’t like your picture, he would take it over again.” Most people liked their picture because they enjoyed talking to the photographer and listening to his banter with others. He was nice and he always seemed to enjoy his job.

There is a plaque hanging in today’s Secretary of State Facility that details the charm, kindness, and consideration of Earl Dempsey, the gentleman who knew how to be nice to people and get them to smile. He believed, “If you can make somebody smile, you’ve accomplished something.”

There were assorted things my Dad couldn’t do, and I understand that now. We are not all gifted in the same way. Sometimes it takes years for a daughter to learn that. He knew how to make people comfortable, and send them on their way feeling good. It will be 30 years ago this October that he died. People still remember him and talk about him. He taught me respect, kindness, generosity, and gratitude for blessings. I am forever grateful for his influence and that he was my Dad.

Happy Father’s Day! Always know how much I miss you!