My father was the sixth of eight children from a big family in a small house. To me, he was always Papo- a name my sister gave him. His two daughters could do no wrong in his eyes. He didn't spoil us either; he just loved us with all his heart. We cherished him so much that we never took advantage of his love. Whenever anyone in the family needed help my father was the first to show up.
He was well known by many in Tampa as the Holsom or Wonder Bread Man. Working long hours he would still make time for others. During his deliveries, people would walk up to him asking or begging for bread. His heart was so big he would give them a loaf knowing that this would have to come out of his pocket. Years after retiring, and I was with him on many occasions when it happened, someone would walk up to him and say, "You're the Wonder Bread Man". To hear people express their memories of my father's kindness confirmed what I always knew about my Papo. But it was always nice to hear people praise him. He loved making people laugh with a good joke or harmless prank.
Happy Father's Day, Papo, and may your fathers living or deceased be remembered well by you!