by Peter Twitchell
Today is my day, “Father’s Day.” June 18, in the year of our Lord and Father in Heaven, 2023.
As a dad I am reminded of the day and year of my first daughter’s birth. June 03, 1973. I took part of my biological mom’s first name Sarah and gave her her name – Sara-Anne (Saranne).
I was born April 25, 1950 and my little baby was born 23 years after I was born. It was a joyous and beautiful day, and Mom was a happy grandma as well as the biological mom Elizabeth.
Today as I think back it helps me to look at this noteworthy happening in my life because it was an important event which helps me to get centered and focused on the basis of this special day all the fathers have or if you will, all of the “dads.”
Every one of my children Saranne, David, Danny and my youngest Suzi are all precious and special to me. I give the Lord God Almighty the credit for the joy he’s brought to my heart.
Shortly after my children were born I gave each one of them a name and then the tradition of my Yupiaq Tribe, I was privileged to give each of them a Native Elder’s Yupiaq name. Since time immemorial the names of our grandpa’s and grandma’s have lived through the ages and generations.
As a boy I knew my biological father as Dad and I addressed him as such all of his life. I later learned my biological dad was David Adams Twitchell, but he was content and I was comfortable calling him Dad.
I want to include one observation when I was a boy of eight years old. The Alaska steamship company had one of their huge ships come up the Kuskokwim and anchor in front of Francis Snow’s warehouse across the river from Bethel on the southside near the old Civil Aeronautics administration’s airfield.
Dad was working on board the ship helping to unload all the goods on the ship which usually took a whole week to empty. Gene Snow had Ford tractors with carts which stored the goods from the ship in his warehouse.
I climbed on board the ship during Dad’s coffee break and went into the dining area where coffee, desserts, and baked goods were served by the black chefs in gray and white checkered slacks, black shiny shoes, white coat, and a white puffed up hat.
Dad gave me a bag of goodies to bring home at which point I told Dad, “I’ll see you later Dad.”
I heard one of the black chef’s ask his co-worker, “What’s the dad? What is that?”
The other chef said, “Maybe that’s how they address their father?”
Add a young age it made me really think and wonder how they addressed their dad?
Happy belated Father’s Day to all you dad’s out there.
In closing it brings back memories of the Moravian pastors addressing our Almighty God as the “Heavenly Father,” and brought back another memory when Dad told me once never to call him “father” because he said, “We have only one Heavenly Father with that name.”
