Letter to the Editor

Dad taught many lessons

To the Editor:

When I think of what my dad means to me, as I do on every Father's Day, I reflect not on who he is, but on the time he spent with me and my brother, Hunter. My father showed us that being a great Dad is about being there. It's about doing the small things every Dad can do to give his kids the best possible start in life.

In 2002, when my Dad, John Gregg, left the Indiana legislature after 16 years to return to our small town of Sandborn, he told his colleagues, "I think I've been a pretty good Speaker, but I want to be an even better father." He spent the next 10 years living up to that promise.

He celebrated our education. When we were little, whenever we made the honor roll at school, Dad would put us in the back of his truck and drive around, honking and yelling and making a celebration out of it. He coached my Little League team, and he was the first person to teach us how to throw a baseball. He let us jump in mud puddles and cover him with sand, and we even rode roller coasters together at Holiday World. He started a tradition of taking us to movies on weekends to give my mother "mom" time after being gone all week at the legislature -- something we still do for fun.

Our family raised and showed pigs at the Knox County 4-H Fair, and I will never forget us getting soaked washing them, my Dad in a long-sleeved white shirt and shorts with knee-length black socks, rubber barn boots and white fishing hat. He was quite a sight.

He and my mom had us in church on a regular basis, and they taught us the importance of giving to those in need. The best time of year was at Christmas, being in the kitchen with my Dad and making all sorts of cookies and candies to take to shut-ins and elderly people in our community on Sunday afternoons. My grandmother had started that tradition with my Dad, and he passed it on to us.

I hope one day I can teach my children the same lessons my dad taught Hunter and me. What's remarkable about the time we spent together is how ordinary it was. It wasn't about having things or being somebody. It was about being there.

John Blackwood Gregg

Sandborn