There are two holidays this weekend that are close to my heart — Flag Day and Father’s Day.
My father, Harold H. Prentiss, raised me from the time I was 9 years old, when he and my mother separated. Some months later, I stood before Squire Kiase at Danville (in those days, justices of the peace were also called squires) and told him I chose to reside with Dad.
My 9-year-old reasoning was that Mom had met someone else by now and Dad didn’t have anyone to keep him company. I loved them both, but to me that seemed to be the best solution.
Prior to their breakup, Dad worked on the WPA and the Civilian Conservation Corps, both born of the Great Depression. He wasn’t very big, about 5 feet, 7 inches tall, but he had large biceps and he was strong.
I must admit that if I’d had my druthers, I’d rather have lived with both parents, but Dad did his best to keep me entertained and we had a lot of fun together. In many ways he was like a good friend, but I always knew who was the parent and who was the child, something that doesn’t seem too prevalent these days.
We would ride our bikes and swim together at Sunnybrook Park near Mausdale. He would do fancy dives, not necessarily in a fancy way, but better than I could do them.
When he worked at the Merck plant in Riverside, I often took his and my chromatic harmonicas to the Riverside end of the river bridge and we would play our way back to Danville. Sometimes we’d play our way back to Riverside and then back again to Danville. People would come to the small park that was near the bridge (the bridge no longer exists) to listen to us on a hot summer night, and to catch some of the breeze from the river.
Shortly after I graduated from Danville High School in 1950 the National Guard Battalion I had joined was called up to active duty. A couple of years later, fresh from beautiful downtown Korea, I arrived home, but by now Dad had a new child with his wife, Betty, so we didn’t do all the things we used to do. We still did a lot of things together, though, and it was great having a father and a friend.
I remember how good it felt when, after I became managing editor of this newspaper, Dad called me aside and told me how proud he was of my accomplishment. By now, I was a father three times over and could appreciate all the more what he had gone through as a single parent to raise me or, as he often put it in jest (I think), drag me up.
In July 1983, Dad passed away, a victim of cancer, just a few weeks shy of his 79th birthday. I was with him when he died, holding his hand, and that’s something for which I’ll always be grateful. He was asleep when he went, but I’ve always thought he knew I was there. I hope he did.
Anyhow, amid this rambling. I hope you got the idea — show your father you love him, especially on Father’s Day. Women don’t seem to have a problem with showing emotions, but a lot of men see emotions as weaknesses. They’re dead wrong. Showing emotion isn’t a weakness, it’s a sign of maturity and a sense of knowing who and what you are.
Dad has been dead for almost 25 years, but I still think of him and the good times we had, even when we didn’t have two nickels to rub together.
I’m sorry that I didn’t know my father-in-law, Joseph Kaminski, very well. He came to the United States from Poland as a young child. He spent his working career in coal mines near Mount Cannel until he was injured in a fall (cave-in) and had to retire. I met him after that, so I didn’t know all about him, but I do know that he was a very strong, very tough man who took his lot in life without whining or whimpering, even when he had to sit by an open window, winter and summer, so his black lung-hindered breathing could be eased somewhat. It was what it was and that’s how he looked at and accepted life.
As I mentioned, I didn’t know him well, but I respected him for his forthrightness and his willingness to work to feed, clothe and shelter his family.
Please, if your father is alive, let him know you love him on Sunday and throughout the year.
And please show your respect for the flag this Saturday and always. A lot of good men and women have died fighting for the ideals for which it stands.

HAROLD PRENTISS is retired as managing editor of the Standard Journal.